


Last Dance

by April_Valentine



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related, First Time, Long, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-28
Updated: 2008-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-13 08:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15360798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine
Summary: This story is the first part of what will be a long series. It's novel length and is set mostly between the end of TSbyBS and the tag from that episode. It's complete but leads into the second story, which will appear in print and online in October, 2008. Blair and Jim are struggling with the aftermath of the dissertation fiasco and the direction in which their relationship will go from there. And some unscrupulous strangers are watching them, having been altered to Jim's abilities by the media frenzy.All the Major Crimes characters are present in this story, along with Naomi and some original male characters. It is NOT a crossover with any other fandom -- just can't get that indication removed although I didn't check anything in that category. I hope the archivists can get it removed for me.





	1. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Elaine, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Artifact Storage Room 3](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Artifact_Storage_Room_3) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Artifact Storage Room 3’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/artifactstorageroom3/profile).
> 
>  
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
>  
> 
> This story appeared in Warriors 5 which was published in May of 2006. Thanks for Sherrylou, Dartrekker, Lucy and Theresa Kyle for suggestions and beta reading. And thanks also to WoD for helping me try to ready the manuscript for posting on the 852 Archive. Also, thanks to Elaine from Artifact Storage Room 3 for helping me get the file uploade here.
> 
> When the sequel has been published, I plan to open up the series to other authors who may wish to contribute.
> 
> Enjoy and please feel free to comment!

  
Author's notes: This is the artwork which I created for the story title page in Warriors 5.  


* * *


	2. Chapter 2

 

LAST DANCE  


  
**"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act out their dream with open eyes, to make it possible."**  
**\-- Seven Pillars of Wisdom, Lawrence of Arabia**

 

*****

  
Blair managed to get the door to the loft open while supporting Jim with his free arm. The Sentinel was heavy against his side, groggy from the shot of painkiller the doctor had injected into him at the hospital before Blair had been able to dissuade him from giving it to the injured man. Jim didn't seem to be suffering any ill effects from the drug so far; it was just causing him to practically fall asleep on his feet. If Blair hadn't been so wrung out and exhausted himself, it might have even been a little funny.

  
"Come on, Jim," he sighed, pulling Jim through the door with him as he pushed it open. Jim leaned against him so heavily he almost fell through the door, but Blair managed to catch himself and still keep the Sentinel from falling too. Blair shut the door and braced Jim against it as he dropped his keys into the basket on the table and shrugged out of his jacket. Reaching to his left while he kept his right hand against Jim's chest, he draped his jacket on its hook, then looked Jim over.

  
The Sentinel stood where Blair had left him, his eyes drooping, his face wearing a soft, bland expression, as though he had not a care in the world and having his friend prop him up was an everyday occurrence. That was so unlike the normal Jim Ellison reaction to injury or any self-perceived lack of strength that Blair was actually starting to get a little worried.

  
"You okay, Jim?" he asked, his voice sharp as he tried to penetrate Jim's medication-induced fog. "Are you with me, man?"

  
"What... you need glasses, Chief?" Jim mumbled. "Oh yeah, you do." He snickered. "Well, maybe you should put 'em on, 'cause I'm right here in front of you."

  
Blair rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Jim, I can see you just fine. I know your body's here in front of me. I was trying to find out if your brain is here too."

  
"Huh?" Jim asked, bringing both hands up to Blair's shoulders as though to steady himself.

  
"You're wasted, man," Blair answered, shaking his head. "Great. sentinels get high on a little bit of Demerol. I should write that down... oh yeah, I don't need to any more." His tone turned darker.

  
"Blair." Proving that he wasn't as out of it as Blair had thought, Jim gripped his chin, turning Blair's gaze back to him. "Don't."

  
"Don't what?" He looked up at Jim, almost daring him to say more.

  
"Don't rub your own nose in the dissertation mess," Jim told him gruffly. 

  
"Hey, it's my mess to rub my nose in," Blair countered. "And old habits die hard, don't you know that? I'll probably keep thinking about taking notes on you for awhile."

  
"It's not just your mess." Jim brought his hands up to encircle Blair's face. "It's our mess."  
The look in the blue eyes was so intense Blair had trouble meeting them. Jim looked open, emotional, and after the day they'd had, Blair had no clue how to deal with an emotional Jim Ellison. "Yeah, and I know how you hate messes. What house rule would you say this one comes under?" He tried to keep his tone light, but knew he didn't quite make it.

  
"Blair, shut up," Jim told him, still intently gazing down at him. "I meant what I said at the hospital. Cut out the self-deprecation."

  
Blair closed his eyes, aching at the statement Jim had just made. He had thought... what? That Jim was going to say something more? _Something about how he feels about me? Yeah, right._ He took a deep breath and patted Jim on the shoulder. "Okay, Jim. I'll try to do that." He sighed. "Might take a little practice though."

  
Jim nodded solemnly and let go of Blair's face, his hands moving back to his shoulders. "Good. Whatever the rest of the world thinks, I don't want to hear you keep putting yourself down. Not here." He shifted position and winced.

  
Blair pulled his mind back to the immediate situation. "Is your leg bothering you? Come on, let's get you inside and get your weight off it." It was far easier to think about Jim and Jim's injury than it was for him to think about himself at the moment. He'd given up his career today -- it hurt and he wished he could have a little of Jim's Demerol to take the edge off the psychological pain he was beginning to feel.

  
He helped Jim over to the couch, concentrating on the weight of the man leaning against him. Jim groaned as he slid into a sitting position on the couch, his eyes creasing slightly at the corners, and Blair knew that meant he was really hurting.

  
"You'd think the Demerol was going to at least work if it was gonna also make you sleepy and half loaded," he muttered as he began easing Jim out of his jacket.

  
"I feel fine," Jim protested, his voice a little groggy.

  
"Sure you do." Blair bent down to unlace Jim's hiking boots and worked them off his feet, then turned his attention to the bandage that had been applied to Jim's knee at the hospital. They had slit his pants leg up to the thigh, over Jim's protests, and it was easy to check the gauze wrapped around his wound. Blair grimaced as he saw that it was turning red again already. "We've gotta change this," he announced, looking up. "Jim, why don't you get out of these clothes? It'd be easier to change the bandage and you'd be more comfortable."

  
"What'd'you want me t'do?" Jim mumbled. "Just... drop my pants right here?"

  
He sounded so appalled that Blair almost laughed. "Well, that's one way to put it. Go ahead, I've seen you in your skivvies before." 

  
"What about your mother?" Jim asked, still frowning, his eyes scanning the area.

  
Blair rolled his eyes. "She's at her hotel. Remember, Jim?" Blair was glad Naomi had checked into the Cascade Hilton. He didn't think Jim would much appreciate her seeing him like he was right now.

  
"Oh. Yeah. I forgot." Jim's eyes slipped closed.

  
"Jim, come on, man. I can't change the bandage while you're still dressed." He stood up, looking down at Jim who glared at him a moment, then despite being a bit wobbly, got to his feet and reached for his belt.

  
Almost involuntarily, Blair took a step back, not wanting to watch, thinking he should just go to the bathroom for the first aid kit and the gauze bandages it contained, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from what Jim's hands were doing.

  
When it became apparent that Jim's fingers were shaking too badly to get his belt unfastened, Blair was glad he hadn't left. He simply put his hands where Jim's were and did it for him. He was surprised when Jim dropped his own hands to his sides, not protesting Blair taking over the job. When Jim made no move to continue after the belt was open, Blair took the next step; he unsnapped Jim's pants and then, fingers trembling only a little, took hold of the pull to draw his zipper down.

  
Jim sighed.

  
At least, Blair thought he heard him sigh. He glanced up, almost afraid to meet Jim's eyes while he was helping him take his pants off.

  
Just as he should have known, Jim had his face averted and his cheekbones were faintly pink. Blair swallowed a smile. Trust the big cop to get embarrassed by needing help. Deciding he wouldn't say anything, he grasped the waistband of Jim's pants and eased the garment down the long legs, letting the trousers puddle around Jim's ankles.

  
"Okay, you can sit back down," he said, his voice a little raspy.

  
With a gulp even Blair could hear, Jim complied. He patted Jim's shoulder. "I'll be right back," he told him before leaving to go get his supplies. 

  
Returning, he found that Jim had managed to kick the trousers off. He was sitting there in his shirt and boxers, looking pale. Blair knelt down and proceeded to carefully strip away the old bandage, aware of Jim trying to control his responses to the sensation of pulling the damp gauze off the wound. It was ugly, red and painful-looking with dark stitches mending the torn flesh. It looked bad, but Blair knew it could have been much worse, considering the shape Simon and Megan were in and the injuries Rafe and others had sustained that afternoon. He cleaned the wound efficiently, wondering if maybe he should look into becoming a paramedic, then wrapped it in fresh gauze. Jim was silent the whole time.

  
Finishing, he looked up. Jim was sitting with his head resting on the back of the couch, his eyes closed tightly. Blair placed a hand on Jim's warm thigh. "Did the doctor say you'd have any permanent damage, Jim?"

  
Jim raised his head, his eyes seeming to struggle to focus. "He said I might have some st-stiffness for awhile but... with therapy I c'n get back full movement."

  
"That's good. I was worried you'd have lasting joint damage."

  
"Well, at my age... I guess I can't expect it to heal perfectly."

  
The comment was so unlike Jim that Blair eyed him more closely. 

  
"Jim, you're not old," Blair told him, not really sure what was going through Jim's mind. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

  
Jim raised his head to look at him. "What could be wrong? We got Zeller. Simon and Megan are going to make it. Nobody else was hurt very seriously. Even Barkley's alive..."

  
When Jim let his words trail off, Blair raised his eyebrows. "So? That's good, isn't it?"

  
"But you... " Jim looked at him, his hands spreading as though to indicate the enormity of what Blair had done. "It shouldn't have had to come to that. I should have..."

  
"What, Jim? Let people know you're a sentinel? That was everything you didn't want, man."

  
"But those offers... your career...that was everything you ever wanted."

  
"Maybe it was just what I thought I wanted. That's not as important as you being who you are and having the freedom to do your job and be taken seriously."

  
Jim leaned forward, resting a hand on Blair's shoulder. "You know how that makes me feel, Chief? I... I can't believe you did that for me. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to repay you..."

  
Blair looked into the intense blue eyes. "I didn't do it for you to have to repay me, Jim. You've done so much for me in the past... if it's okay with you, I feel like we're even, man."

  
"Even?" Jim said incredulously, still gazing intently at Blair.

  
Sandburg glanced away, unable to explain the deeper reasons he'd done what he did. "You're the 'Sentinel of the Great City'," he offered simply, "and I'm your shaman. I take that seriously. I couldn't let my paper undermine you. I had to protect that above anything else."

  
"But -- aren't I supposed to be the one who protects you?" Jim's intense eyes met Blair's. "When I found out what happened... it wasn't that I didn't believe you... I was... scared." He looked away, face flushed. "I should have... " He lifted his hands as though pointing out how empty they were.

  
Blair found a smile for him. "Look, we've both done a lot of stuff for each other, man. That's getting hard to sort out, don't you think?"

  
Jim sighed and returned Blair's smile, though it didn't seem to reach his eyes. "Maybe. I just... I wish you could have published your dissertation your way, Blair. That it hadn't been read until you were ready -- "

  
"And I'd taken your name out of it," Blair jumped in to add.

  
Jim ignored his comment. "I wish you'd've received your doctorate and the approval of your peers. I even wish you'd've been able to make some money on the publication but..."

  
Blair squeezed Jim's leg where his hand still rested. "I know, Jim. I understand. It's okay."  
"Don't tell me you're not hurting from this," Jim insisted.

  
Blair swallowed. Yes, he hurt. He wanted nothing more at the moment for Jim to take him in his arms and hold him until all the pain went away, but it wasn't something he could admit or ask for, even now. "I'm not sure it's sunk in yet. Feels like it happened in a dream. Everything since has just been a blur."

"It will sink in though." Jim shifted, wincing as he moved his injured knee.

  
"Enough," Blair spoke up, ready to drop the subject.

  
Jim's hands stopped him from rising. They clamped on his shoulders and Blair found himself looking into Jim's eyes again. They were bleak with disgrace. "Blair, I... " Jim took a deep breath. "I should have done something to help you. I should have..." 

  
"Jim, don't. You didn't make me do it. It was my own idea, my own decision. It was my dissertation and I had to take responsibility for what was in it," Blair insisted. The last thing he wanted to have done was to make Jim feel worse. "You've always believed you're the one who's supposed to fix everything."

  
"No, I..." 

  
"It doesn't matter, Jim. You have nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Just believe that much, all right?"

  
Jim let go of Blair's shoulders but used one hand to carefully lift a long curl and tuck it behind Blair's ear. "I want to be a better friend to you, Blair." Jim's adam's apple worked as he swallowed hard.

  
Blair closed his eyes. A guilt-tripping Jim trying to figure out how to make his sacrifice up to him was not what he wanted to contemplate. "Jim, you're all doped up on Demerol right now. It's making you feel worse instead of better, both physically and emotionally. I don't think we should talk about this any more until you feel better, okay? Why don't you lie down and get some rest?"

  
Jim sighed and sat back, not touching Blair any more. "You're right. I guess."

  
"Always." Blair tried for a little smirk to lighten the mood, but it seemed to fall flat. "Go on, stretch out. Get some sleep. I feel like taking a nap too."

  
Jim carefully stretched out on the couch, bringing his long legs up to recline, settling his head on one of the throw pillows. He watched as Blair got another pillow to elevate his knee and covered him with the afghan but he didn't say anything else. 

  
"I'll wake you up when it's time to eat some dinner, okay?" Blair checked.

  
"Sure," Jim murmured, closing his eyes.

  
Blair deliberately shut his own mind off as he collected the first aid things and returned them to the bathroom, then entered his own room, stripped off his clothes and dropped onto his futon. He felt very alone in his bed in the tiny spare room, more alone than he'd ever felt there before. Still, he was so exhausted from the draining events of the last few days that he fell asleep.

 

*****

Jim woke as darkness filled the loft and the lights of the city began casting their images through the balcony windows. He squinted at the man-made light, so different from the warmth of the setting sun that had been shining through when he'd fallen asleep, and then checked his watch. It was after seven.

  
His knee ached with an insistency that surprised him, reminding him all too clearly of the day's events, the torn flesh rather like the way their comfortable life had been disrupted by the dissertation fiasco.

  
_But were we comfortable?_ The question came out of nowhere into Jim's mind and he was too tired and dispirited to fight it even though he knew the answer, knew he'd repressed the question whenever it had tried to worm its way into his thinking before. 

  
_We weren't comfortable. We were a couple of years ago but in the last year or more the only comfort was in recognizing that we'd learned to live with the pain of unhealed wounds. We were friends, but the scars from the Alex incident and too many other things hadn't healed as well as we pretended they had. Trust can only be mended so many times. Feeling betrayed can become a habit, like a roommate being messy, that you learn to overlook but wish would go away. Accusations cut deep, even if you apologize for them._

  
What he feared now was that their friendship might not survive this catastrophe.

  
_I got hurt, got mad, felt betrayed,_ Jim thought, the emotions even now like the doctor's needle probing his wound. _And what did he do? He threw his whole life away to protect me._

  
_Sure, he did it for noble reasons and as he pointed out, it was his own choice, his own decision. But when reality hits and he doesn't have a career left, how's he going to feel then?_ Jim could envision Blair's eventual resentment and bitterness.

  
_What causes one man to make a sacrifice like that for another?_

  
Something terrifying flittered at the edge of his consciousness, but he pushed it aside as he had a thousand times already today.

  
He tried to remember how he'd reacted to betrayals he'd suffered at the hands of other people. His father taking Stephen to Europe, Carolyn divorcing him, Lila and her murders, Veronica choosing Adam -- had he told any of them how he felt about that? Had he challenged a single one of them for the hurt they'd brought him?

  
With his father, he'd simply left home and not communicated with the man for fifteen years. With Carolyn, he'd merely accepted her decision to divorce him and even stayed friendly with her. In Lila's case, heÕd made love to her even though he knew she was not telling him the truth about herself. He had still cared for Veronica even though she'd married another man who supposedly had been his friend, then tried to frame him when they met all those years later.

  
_Why was Blair the only one I got mad at?_ Jim asked himself. _Why did he have to listen to my recriminations, when his so-called betrayal was the most innocent one of all? Blair didn't set out to hurt me. Everyone else did, to one degree or another. Everyone else had their own best interest in mind, not mine._

  
Jim knew the answer and for once he confronted it head on.

  
_He's always been the only one I've ever shown my true feelings to, the only one I've ever thought would take those feelings and not push me farther away because I have them._

  
_And he proved that today, didn't he?_

  
A rush of heat swept over Jim's body, shame and fear and relief and exhilaration so convoluted he wasn't sure he could ever fathom it.

  
_Blair heard my feelings, took them in and even though he protested his righteous indignation that I hadn't trusted him, did something about it to make my pain go away. Nobody else ever changed for me, nobody else ever sacrificed anything about themselves for me. But Blair did._

  
What Blair had done was almost incomprehensible. Certainly, Jim had never imagined the solution Sandburg had come up with. 

  
_Why didn't he just sue Sid Graham? Why didn't he just tell the media his dissertation wasn't finished, wasn't edited? Why didn't he just tell the university he hadn't even been ready to submit it to them, much less offer it for publication elsewhere?_

  
He wanted to lie there and think of other things Blair could have, should have done, but his mind refused the pointless exercise. It knew what it wanted to think about, and no matter how much Jim tried to divert it, the same thoughts kept coming back.

  
_You know why he did it..._ it whispered like a sinful secret, _go show him that you know._

  
The terrifying knowledge that had Jim had been fighting could no longer be ignored. Waves of emotion were rolling over him, telling him not only that Blair must have sacrificed his dissertation because he loved Jim, but that Jim must admit that he loved Blair.

  
He had let Blair see his weaknesses and self-doubts and fears and mistakes because he loved him. He'd been too dense to see the truth, too stubborn to admit it -- or too scared to take the risk of admitting it -- all this time.

  
Now, it felt like an invisible burden was about to be lifted from his heart, like heavy doors were being thrown open wide. He loved Blair. It was so simple, yet more complex than any feeling he'd ever known in his life. 

  
Jim sat up, pushing back the afghan and was halfway to his feet when a searing pain in his knee stopped him. He winced, focusing on that pain in an effort to return his mind to sanity.

  
_What was I going to do? Go into his room and get down on my knees and propose to him? Tell him I love him? Ask him if the reason he did what he did is because he... somehow... loves me?_  
_How would he react to that?_

  
_He'd think I pity him, that I don't know any other way to thank him than to offer him... what, a mercy fuck?_

  
_That would be like taking his sacrifice and throwing it in his face, taking all the nobility of his gesture and mocking it_ , Jim told himself, uncertainty rolling in to replace euphoria. 

  
It was one thing to admit loving Blair to himself. It was quite another to contemplate telling Blair. Having had his heart thrown back in his face so many times in his life, Jim was terrified at the idea of confessing his love to Blair. 

  
Feeling sick from confusion, Jim's head was swimming. His knee was throbbing, the shot of Demerol not worth a damn. Every movement painful, he got up from the couch and staggered his way toward the bathroom, intending to look for some Advil. 

  
At the door to Blair's room, he began to feel light-headed and grasped the door frame to steady himself. The door wasn't latched and whispered open to reveal the small room beyond.  
Jim stopped. Jim looked. Jim stepped inside.

  
Blair was sleeping, deeply from the sound of his breathing and heart rate. So deeply that maybe his rest was untroubled, unmarred by the events of the day. So deeply that maybe he wouldn't wake if Jim stood there awhile and watched him.

  
Jim leaned against the door jamb, eyes taking in every detail of Blair's countenance. A couple times before, he'd let himself look at Blair this way, always when Blair was asleep and didn't know Jim was looking -- after Lash had him, in the hospital after he'd revived him at the fountain.

  
_You tried to tell me then, didn't you?_ Jim asked him silently, _when you talked about our spirit animals coming together. I knew what you meant, deep down inside, but I managed to keep that realization a secret from myself, tried to resist your truth. And look what happened 'cause I couldn't take that trip with you when you first offered it to me._

  
_Is it too late, Blair? Was I right a little while ago when I worried that our friendship can't survive this latest incident? Did you love me then and only did what you did for me today because of a memory? Did I push you away, keep my heart from understanding too long?_

  
Jim shuddered, the back of his throat constricting with pain, his eyes stinging. He shook his head, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

  
Blair's hair was a messy wreath on his pillow, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, his face still and beautiful. Dressed only in a t-shirt and boxers, his body was spread out, young and strong and supple, one hand clenched on the covers as though in defense of his dreams.

  
Jim wanted nothing more than to take the two steps needed to get to the bed and sweep him into his arms, hold him tight until all the pain went away.

  
Blair had made Jim's pain go away so many times, with his soft words, his steady heartbeat, his very presence soothing Jim's senses and grounding him. Sometimes Blair was the only thing that made life worth living for Jim. Did Blair know how much that meant to him?

  
Half of him aching for contact with Blair, the other half frozen in fear, Jim brought up his hand, touching his own lips with shaking fingers, wishing he could learn the taste of Blair's mouth, of Blair's lips and tongue, wondering about the mysteries they could teach each other. It was agony to see Blair's beauty, now, when so much had gone wrong between them.

  
_I should have told him years ago, when there was no pain. When there was nothing between us but joy and tenderness._

  
Jim flushed and sweat broke out on his body, need and grief finding a focus as his eyes caressed his sleeping friend. His fingers slid down from his lips to stroke his own damp throat and over his shirt to find his nipples taut with need, his body begging for sensation.

  
_What would it have been like?_ he wondered, _if there had only been you and me without this awful grief and loss standing between us? If there had only been the need for each other, the tenderness, without the world to interfere?_

  
His hand trailed down the front of his body to his straining, heated crotch, his dick that had hardened achingly despite the pain in his knee, in his soul, despite the shock that would cross Blair's face if he woke and saw Jim doing that. Despite the embarrassment they both would feel.  
Despite the uselessness Jim felt now, the regret.

  
His cock felt none of those things; it only felt the pull of Blair's body on it, its need for release.  
Jim wished he'd put his pants back on before getting up to look for painkillers. Standing here in his shorts, he felt so naked, exposed. It would be so easy to slip his fingers into his boxers and release his dick, touch it, imagine Blair's fingers stroking him.

  
But if he did that, how could he keep himself standing here against the door and not let his cock lead him to the bed where he would wake Blair, shock Blair, hurt Blair?

  
Jim squeezed his eyes shut but instead of blackness, his mind filled in a picture of Blair standing before the microphones telling the world he was a fraud. That picture should have quelled Jim's raging hormones. But it didn't work; it only made him ache for Blair all the more, only made him love him more. His hand stayed on his cock, but he managed enough control to stop himself from taking it out.

  
He forced his eyes open, feeling like something vile at the idea of wanting to jerk off while picturing Blair telling the world he lied in his dissertation. Instead he looked his fill while Blair slept innocently on. He dialed up his sight and scent and hearing and surrounded himself with Blair's breath, Blair's beauty, Blair's heartbeat, and imagined the taste of his skin, the hardness of his body, the pliancy of his flesh.

  
Jim pressed his other hand to his mouth, biting hard on his knuckles to smother a groan.  
And came in his hand.

  
He sagged, seeing stars as he leaned against the door, shame flushing him anew. Senses desperate to know he hadn't wakened Blair checked quickly, found his friend still asleep, and Jim staggered out of the room.

  
He made it to the bathroom, where he turned on the water and splashed his face, then washed up, forcing every thought from his head with cold determination.   


*****  


  
The ringing phone startled Blair from sleep. He sat up quickly, his head spinning from the rapid movement, and grabbed for his cell.

  
"H'lo?" he mumbled, wondering who had the nerve to be calling him tonight.

  
"Is...is this Blair Sandburg?" a young-sounding voice asked.

  
"Yeah. Who wants to know?" he ground out, thinking he sounded like Jim in a bad mood.  
"I... I need your help."

  
Blair rolled his eyes. "I don't work for the university any more. You'll have to call your own advisor."

  
"I'm not at the college," the voice told him. "I think... I think I have those senses."

  
Blair's head cleared with the suddenness of a balloon popping. "What?"

  
"I read in the papers about how you wrote that book about the... the sentinel guy. And... it said you helped him with his senses. I think I need the same kind of help."

  
_Oh great. Some crackpot pulling my chain._ "Look, didn't you see my press conference today? I'm a fraud. I made it all up. There is no sentinel. There's nothing wrong with your senses."

  
"But..." the voice faltered, sounding scared. "Even if you did make it up, you know something about it, right? You did study the... tribal sentinels, didn't you? I'm telling you, I need your help."

  
"I can't help you. Go see a therapist or a doctor," Blair said shortly.

  
"I have. They don't listen. Look, I can see things I shouldn't be able to see, hear things nobody else can. I can smell dinner from a mile away... don't you understand? I thought there was something wrong with me. Until I read about you. I can't control this by myself. You're the only person out there who might understand."

  
The words were so plaintive, they rang so true, that Blair felt something inside him twist. Part of him wanted to get the guy's name and number, go see him, ask questions, help him, add him to his notes. Even before he'd met Jim, he'd conditioned himself to pay close attention any time anybody said anything about their senses. He'd picked up on Alex Barnes that way -- _and we know how great that turned out,_ he reminded himself, admitting his curiosity hadn't always been a good thing to cultivate. He decided to trust his first impression that the guy was just a nut case -- or maybe a reporter trying for a new angle to the story. No, there was absolutely no good reason to talk to this guy any longer than he already had.

  
"I'm sorry. I can't help you."

  
"But..."

  
"Don't call me again." Blair pushed the 'end' button, cutting the caller off. He felt guilty; he wasn't used to being that impolite but he didn't want anything to do with anybody or anything sentinel-related at the moment. He put the phone down, then on second thought, picked it up again and turned it off so nobody else could call him. He sagged back on his bed, feeling exhausted, like he hadn't slept at all. He glanced at the time, wondering how long he'd been in his room. It was after seven p.m. He should get up, check on Jim.

  
As he sat up again, he became aware of the sound of the shower running. _Jim's taking a shower? With that knee? What's the matter with him?_

  
Emotionally drained but aware he still had to consider Jim's needs, he climbed off the futon and went to the bathroom door.

  
"Jim? What's going on? Are you all right?" he called.

  
There was no answer. Jim should have been able to hear him easily over the sound of the shower. Worried, Blair reached for the doorknob. He turned it, pushing the door open just slightly. "Jim?"

  
"What?" Jim's voice sounded strained.

  
The bathroom was full of steam, indicating the hot water had been running for awhile. More concerned, Blair went inside.

  
"Jim, what are you doing in there? You shouldn't get that bandage wet."

  
The water was shut off abruptly. "Look, hand me a towel and get out of here, okay? I'll be out in a minute."

  
"What's going on?"

  
"I just... needed a shower, okay, Sandburg? I'm fine."

  
"All right." Not believing Jim was fine, Blair grabbed a towel and shoved it past the shower curtain. It was taken silently. Blair hesitated a moment, then turned to go. "Call if you need me, okay?" He wasn't surprised when Jim didn't answer him.

  
He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, wondering if there was anything in it that could be turned into a meal. With everything that had been happening all week, neither of them had shopped, but there were a few eggs and some cheese so he decided to make an omelet. He wasn't hungry, but he figured both he and Jim should eat.

  
The omelet was almost ready when he heard Jim leave the bathroom. He was moving slowly and Blair rolled his eyes at the man's stubbornness. He just had to get up and shower with that knee bandaged, move around and aggravate it. He cleared the irritation from his face, then turned around.

  
Jim looked worse than he'd expected. Wrapped in his robe, he was pale as a sheet of paper, his lips compressed tightly, slight tremors running through his body that were completely noticeable to Blair's practiced eye, and his expression was carefully bland, as though nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.

  
Sighing, Blair moved toward him, aware of the flinch Jim gave at his approach. "Sit down," he told him, "I'm not going to bite you. You look wiped, man."

  
Jim nodded but didn't speak. He sank into the chair Blair pulled out and fixed his eyes firmly on the table.

  
"You could use something to eat," Blair stated, deciding not to ask any questions. "I fixed some an omelet here."

  
Jim swallowed before speaking. "Sure," he said, his voice sounding faint. "Thanks."

  
Nodding though Jim wasn't looking at him, Blair went to take up their supper, slipping each half of the omelet onto a plate. He served Jim, adding utensils and a napkin, then put his own plate down at the other end of the table.

  
"You want some coffee? Or maybe a beer?"

  
"Just water," Jim said, staring straight down at the food on his plate.

  
"Okay." Blair moved to the fridge again and took out a bottle of water for Jim and a beer for himself. He sat down at the table and looked at his plate, not feeling a bit hungry. He picked up his fork anyway and took a bite, then glanced back up at Jim.

  
Jim was tasting his own omelet gingerly, obviously making an effort to eat when he wasn't hungry either. The atmosphere was strained and Blair figured he shouldn't be surprised. Usually it was up to him to ease the tension, but he didn't know if he had the energy to do it right now. 

  
In the early days, it had been so good. The fast friendship despite their differences, the way he'd been able to help Jim, the fun of riding along with him, playing cop and helping solve cases, falling more and more in love with Jim -- even that had had a kind of rare sweetness to it -- his dissertation and what would come after it a distant dream. 

  
_I was so naive, such a kid. I thought it was all going to happen just the way I wanted it to. Should have known things don't work like that in the real world. Even so, I never thought things would get this screwed up._

  
_I thought I was used to change in my life. Nothing was ever permanent before, how come I thought this thing with Jim, the way we used to be, was going to last?_

  
Now here they sat, eating a bland omelet,their lives in a shambles and Blair too messed up to do anything about it. Or rather, realizing that he'd already done all he could do. He still loved Jim, nothing would change that. But he'd stopped pretending Jim not loving him didn't bother him any more. 

  
_Time to grow up, Blair. Unrequited doesn't cut it._

  
He looked at the man in front of him, adoring the clear profile, the strong jaw, the eyes so blue they outdid the sky, the deep integrity and pride that emanated from him, and the ache that Blair had carried around with him so long became almost unbearable. 

  
_What if I said something? What if I came right out and told him?_

  
Jim's hand trembled and his fork dropped from his fingers, clattering to the plate. He looked startled, as though the noise hurt him. He glanced up quickly, seeming embarrassed. Blair held his tongue.

  
"This is good," Jim murmured, picking his fork back up. "I kinda messed up your bandage. I put a new one on though."

  
"S'okay," Blair managed, his throat feeling raw. It hurt him to see Jim like this, but his own pain was growing in intensity and he didn't have the strength to take care of both of them.

  
_I gotta figure out how to take care of myself. It's been so long, I don't know if I remember how._  
He remembered what he'd told his mother: _"Everybody's going to be fine, mom."_ Was that really true? He'd thought so when he said it. _All I had to do was tell the world I made it all up and it would all go away, the press, the betrayal, the anger, the hurt, the guilt. And we could go back to...what? What are we left with now? Just this? Sitting here eating a tasteless omelet and not able to look at each other?_

  
The phone rang. Jim jumped, then winced in pain from moving his leg.

  
"I'll get it," Blair announced, abandoning his dinner to get up and grab the receiver on the wall.

"Hello?"

  
"Is this... Blair?"

  
It was the same voice. The guy who'd called his cell phone earlier.

  
"How did you get this number?"

  
"It's in the book," the guy told him. "And I thought I'd ask him to tell me how to get to talk to you. But you're there, aren't you?" There was something smug and knowing in the voice that Blair didn't want to contemplate.

  
"Look, forget it." Blair made his voice cold. "I don't have anything to tell you. Neither of us do. Don't call here again." He hung up.

  
When he returned to the table, Jim's eyes were on him at last, huge and concerned. "Who was that?" he rasped out, sounding as though he was ready to go get his gun and shoot whoever had made the call.

  
Blair had to smile, but then it slipped from his face. He didn't need rescuing, not now, not any more. "Some crackpot," he told Jim. "He says he has heightened senses. He's probably a reporter. I told him there's no more story."

  
"A reporter?" Jim asked. "He called before?"

  
Blair could have kicked himself for saying that. _And I was so careful of what I said while I was on the phone with the guy._ But Jim was a detective. And a sentinel, despite what Blair had told the world.

  
"Yeah, while you were in the shower. On my phone," he admitted.

  
Jim looked sympathetic. "I guess we can expect that for a little while."

  
"I thought it was going to be over," Blair sighed, dropping his head so his hair obscured the rest of the room from his own view.

  
"I'm sorry." Jim sighed too, as though gathering his strength. "Let's screen the calls for a few days. That should do it. Or I'll answer them."

  
Blair nodded, feeling grim. "I turned my phone off."

  
"Good idea." Jim hesitated. "I won't let anyone bother you about this, Blair."

  
Blair looked at him, his feelings for Jim like ocean waves beating at the shoreline. "It's okay," he whispered, swallowing his emotions. "I can handle it."

  
"You shouldn't have to." Jim sounded grim as well.

  
Blair lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Jim was trying so hard. _All I want is for you to open those strong arms of yours and hold me, tonight -- every night. Forever._ He'd been held in those arms so seldom, and really not at all in the past year, but he remembered them: hard as steel, strong and careful and protective, the only reality to penetrate his golden-fogged nightmare. _Why can't you hold me now, Jim? Hold me and take this nightmare away like you did that one?_

  
But even a hug from a friend wouldn't make this nightmare go away, Blair conceded to himself. He'd chosen what he did and had to accept all that came with it. It wasn't right to expect Jim to make it all better.

  
_But god, it would feel so good to be able to let go in his arms just for a little while._

  
"Are you okay?" Jim's voice penetrated his self-absorbed fog. He raised his eyes, looking at the face he couldn't help loving.

  
"I'm fine," he lied easily. He had to remember why he gave the press conference. He did it for Jim. Jim had been suffering, was still suffering. Blair couldn't let his own bleak realizations of what he'd done to his career make him forget what was most important.

  
"I'm fine," he said again, making it true. "How about you?"

  
Jim lifted an eyebrow. "Still in shock, I guess." He didn't say whether it was from being shot or from what Blair had done for him.

  
Blair didn't ask. "How about the knee?"

  
"Hurts like a son of a bitch."

  
"Need me to go into my routine, get you to turn the pain dial down?" Blair ventured softly.

  
A ghost of a smile crossed Jim's face. "At the risk of sounding like a masochist, no. I don't... You've already done enough for me for one day, don't you think?" Before he let Blair say anything in answer to that, he went on, "Besides, maybe I should remember what happened today, feel it, not push it aside like it doesn't matter."

  
_Jim Ellison, not repressing something? That'll be a first._ Blair didn't say that out loud. He felt a fragile peace descending over them, a delicate new skin covering both their wounds. Maybe all it would take was some time. _Give us some time, give the world a chance to forget, and maybe things will be okay again._ He tried to make himself believe that.

  
He glanced at his watch. "Man, it's only eight o'clock but I feel like it's midnight."

  
"I feel like it's three a.m.," Jim countered.

  
"You should get some rest and so should I." He got up, picking up his plate and Jim's. "I'll help you upstairs and then do these later."

  
"Leave 'em," Jim ordered, pushing back from the table.

  
"Oh, man, you are in a forgiving mood." The banter almost felt easy. Almost. Part of Blair wanted to reach out to Jim, to hug him or shake him, he wasn't sure which.

  
"Take it while it's offered," Jim shot back. He got to his feet but the first step he took wrenched a groan out of him.

  
Blair did reach out to him then. "You shouldn't put your weight on that leg. They should have given you crutches or something."

  
"I hate crutches," Jim complained.

  
Blair wrapped one arm around Jim's waist and pulled the other across his shoulders. "Well, it's not going to get better if you keep walking on it."

  
"I have a cane around here somewhere, remember? From the last time I busted my ankle."

  
"Oh yeah. I think that's down in the storage room in the basement. Want me to go get it?"

  
"It'll keep 'til tomorrow. I just want to get horizontal, the sooner the better."

  
Blair could have said any number of things to that comment, half of them flirtatious, but instead only nodded. The idea of flirting with Jim right now made him feel like sobbing. "Okay. Down here or up there?" he asked, nodding toward the loft bedroom.

  
"You're gonna kill me," Jim began, "but up there. I can't take that couch all night."

  
"Great." Blair made a dramatic sigh. "You ready?"

  
"Lead on," Jim responded in kind, but a glance at his eyes showed Blair how uncomfortable he felt. And maybe it wasn't just the pain in his knee that was making him uncomfortable, Blair worried. Despite the scab newly growing over the wounds they shared, the wounds were still tender.

  
"Okay, take it easy," he said softly, starting in the direction of the stairs.

  
Jim came with him, leaning his full weight against Blair's body, his lips tightly compressed to prevent any sign of pain or weakness from escaping. 

  
_Like I don't already know you're hurting bad. You've still gotta keep up that stoic facade, don't you? Hide behind it, hide everything that hurts._

  
_And don't reach out -- because then you might get hurt even more, right?_ He wanted to tell Jim that it was okay, that he could reach out and not be refused.

  
Jim wouldn't do that. His wounds were still too fresh. Blair wondered if either of them would be able to heal enough to get past this. One thing at a time, he told himself. _Just get him up the stairs and into bed._

  
Silently, they managed the stairs. Helping him to the bed, Blair noticed the sweat that had broken out on Jim's face and throat from the effort of climbing the steps. Blair had an insane impulse to kiss it away, wanting to make him forget the pain in his leg. _Forget everything but me..._ But he couldn't even bring himself to wipe Jim's sweat away with his fingers at the moment.

  
As Blair shoved back the covers, Jim sagged onto the bed, his shaking hands undoing the belt of his robe, letting it fall from his shoulders, opening to reveal his bare chest.

  
_And the rest of him. Shit, he's naked._

  
Blair prevented a hitch in his own breathing by sheer force of will. Damn Jim and his lack of modesty. _He couldn't be exposing himself like this to me just to hurt me._

  
He looked at Jim's face. _Well, if he's trying to tempt me, his expression is far from that of a man who wants to get felt up._

  
_No, this is just Jim being Jim. He's exhausted, just showered with no clean underwear downstairs, that's all. It would never occur to him what seeing him like this, right now, after all that's happened today, would do to me._

  
Blair pulled his gaze from the part of Jim he shouldn't look at and put a light hand on Jim's shoulder as he bent to take hold of the robe and pull it away. "Go ahead and lie down," he directed, forcing the shakes from his voice.

  
Jim complied with a grimace of pain, easing down and awkwardly sliding his legs under the covers. Blair glanced at the bandage Jim had applied. It looked a lot more professional than the one he'd put on the injured knee earlier. _Great, one more thing he doesn't need me for._

  
He told himself he definitely had to put the brakes on his over-active mind and stop conjuring more things to worry about. He cleared his throat roughly.

  
"Okay?" he checked, his throat still too tight to say anything more specific.

  
Jim nodded, a little groan slipping out as he shifted position carefully.

  
"If you need anything," Blair began, "and I mean _anything_ , man, you call me, okay? No going down those stairs by yourself."

  
Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm fine." He used the corner of the sheet to wipe more sweat off his face.  
"Yeah, sure you are." He turned to head back down, needing to get out of Jim's bedroom before he was the one starting to sweat. 

  
"Chief?"

  
That one anxious word was all it took to draw him back. He turned, his eyes meeting Jim's with the most honesty either of them had shown in the last hour. "What?" It came out a croak.

  
Jim reached out, his hand shaking and something in Blair knew it wasn't from pain this time. He came closer, reaching with his own hand gone suddenly damp and chilled.

  
Jim's hand was warm. It stopped shaking as Blair's fingers wrapped around it.

  
_Ask me to stay. Ask me to get under these covers with you. Please, Jim. You don't have to love me, you don't have to do anything. Just let me be next to you._

  
"I..." Jim's voice was so faint Blair could hardly hear it. Or maybe the pounding of his own heart was drowning out the sound. He strained to listen.

  
"I..." Jim began again, his jaw clenching. "I just want to... thank you again, Blair. You can't imagine what it means to me." He swallowed hard; Blair still said nothing. "Go get some rest," Jim went on finally, bursting Blair's bubble of hope. "I don't want to think you're down there trying to stay awake in case I call for you. I'll be fine."

  
Blair blinked, feeling like he was coming out of suspended animation. "I know you will, Jim," he said smoothly. "Don't worry. I won't be down there waiting for you to call." _I could wait forever, couldn't I? And you still wouldn't do it._

  
From somewhere, he dredged up a smile of reassurance for him. "Go to sleep." The whisper was soft with choked-back emotion. He gave Jim's fingers a gentle squeeze, then let go.  
Blair squared his shoulders, turned, and headed back down the stairs.  


 

*****

  
Jim rolled over in the bed, biting off a curse when the movement made his knee throb. He couldn't sleep and shouldn't have been surprised. The Advil hadn't really helped and though he had tried to take the edge off by adjusting his pain dial, it wasn't working very well.

  
He knew the reason why -- his concentration was off, there was too much on his mind. 

  
He didn't know how long he'd been standing in the shower when he'd heard Blair outside the door calling him. Not exactly zoned, he had been in something like a fog of despair, his senses bouncing all over the scale. He hadn't known if it was day or night, if he was wet or dry, hot or cold, euphoric or in pain. 

  
_No, take that back._ The pain had been the only thing real to him, the brief euphoria of the orgasm he'd furtively given himself in Blair's room fading as he realized what a sick bastard he must be to do something like that, to take the devotion Blair had shown him and cheapen it like that. He'd stumbled into the shower, hardly remembering the wound in his leg, only wanting to clean off the scent of his sexual release, the evidence of his lust.

  
When Blair's voice had startled him out of his fog, Jim had realized he'd soaked the bandage Blair had so carefully applied and that the spray was punishing the raw edges of the wound. The stinging pain that was making itself known grounded Jim and he was able to come out of his dazed state to turn off the water, get out of the shower, dry off and re-bandage his knee. He did those things almost on automatic, his mind still miles away. Had Blair heard him in his room and wakened? Did he know what Jim had done in there?

  
When Jim slowly emerged from the bathroom he'd half-expected some remark from Blair to indicate that he had, but Blair seemed fine and Jim finally allowed himself to believe his friend had been asleep the whole time.

  
Jim had resigned himself to eating the omelet Blair had fixed for him, when it should have been him taking Blair out to dinner, or doing something tangible for him. At first the atmosphere had been tense, then Jim sensed it easing, felt Blair relaxing somewhat as he helped Jim upstairs.

  
_I almost said something then, but between feeling embarrassed by what I'd done earlier and the damn pain in my knee, I wasn't able to. I didn't want to mess up the tentative ease I felt coming back between us, couldn't take the chance. But I do realize what I feel for him is real. It's deep and it's strong and I don't think I'll ever feel any other way about him... even if I'm not quite sure what to do about it._

  
He shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position for his leg, remembering how he'd sat on the edge of the bed with Blair so close to him and slipped out of his robe. He hadn't quite been flaunting himself, but once he'd started to take the robe off to get into bed, he'd allowed himself to wonder if taking it off would cause any reaction from Blair.

  
But Blair's expression hadn't changed and Jim was so dizzied by the pain in his knee that he hadn't been able to detect any difference in Blair's respiration or heart rate. Blair had just helped him to lie down and covered him up and told him to go to sleep.

  
_I called him back... wanting to say so much... yet it all stalled somewhere between my heart and my throat. He wrote in the dissertation that many of my decisions are fear-based -- guess that one was no exception. Too damn afraid to take the chance, to risk rejection, to face reality... whatever, I only thanked him again and told him not to worry about me up here. Damn!_

  
Jim's hand clenched on the bedcovers, the anguish he felt pounding at his temples. 

  
_I should have been able to deal with the pressure, should have realized that someday people would find out._

  
_I lashed out and he was the convenient target._

  
_He threw himself to the wolves for me and all I could do was say he was a good partner and to stop putting himself down...._

  
Jim rolled over in bed, his hand gripping the railing above his head as he prepared to get up. He didn't want to call out to Blair, to make him climb those stairs again. Jim wanted to go to him, to reach out to him, maybe hold him a little bit. Maybe if he could put his arms around Blair openly, not just lean on him for support the way he had earlier, Blair would understand the things he couldn't say. And Blair could probably use a hug, with all he'd been through today.

  
Jim swung his legs off the side of the bed, forcing himself to move despite the pain. He'd get down there to Blair if he had to slide down the stairs on his ass....

  
His hearing picked up the sound of Blair's voice, very soft, coming from his room. Unable to stop himself, Jim listened.

  
"Mom? It's me." There was a pause, then Blair's voice continued, "Yeah, I'm all right. Just... tired." He was quiet again as Naomi spoke for a few moments.

  
"Mom, I know it was a rough day, you don't have to remind me."

  
Jim grimaced, hearing the strain in Blair's voice. 

  
"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm just saying you don't need to remind me what kind of a day this was. I told the press I'm a fraud, I got canned from the university, I watched a guy fall off a building, I saw two people I care about nearly get killed and Jim got shot in the knee. I think I know about the day."

  
Another pause while Blair listened and then his voice dropped as though to speak softly enough that Jim wouldn't hear him. 

  
"He's all right too. Kinda wobbly from pain medicine they gave him at the hospital before I could stop them -- what? -- Oh, that's right. You didn't read it. Well, he has problems with medications -- Yeah, because of the sentinel senses -- Yeah, and the stuff doesn't work. He's in a lot of pain tonight -- No, Mom. I haven't thought about what I'm going to do. I need to take a little time, get used to the idea of everything being changed. You know, like Jim said, maybe I should just move on -- I faked the dissertation, or so everyone thinks. Why would the guy want me around now? -- And how will the police force look if they let a fraud hang around with one of their best detectives? -- I know, I know. -- Jim and I are still friends, and now I know we'll always be friends but... -- I don't know. I don't really think I can talk about this now, Naomi. It's too much. I'm exhausted and I don't know the answers. I don't even know the questions any more -- I just really need to be alone right now. -- Yes. Alone. By myself. So I can think without distractions. Distractions are what got me into this mess in the first place. -- Never mind. -- Okay. I love you too. Night." 

  
The conversation was over. Jim sank back on the bed. Blair had already been through so much today, he didn't need anything else thrown on top of the pile he was trying to deal with. He said he wanted to be alone; Jim would have to respect that.

  
So much pain. There'd been hurt in Blair's voice, in the listless responses to his mother's questions... He understood why Blair needed to be alone. Blair had been hurt by the people he cared about, he needed time alone to confront his wounds. Blair's strength had always impressed Jim; Blair had remarkable fortitude and courage. He'd proven that today. And he was strong enough to know when to pull back and take care of himself.

  
Jim pulled his legs back under the covers. He bumped his injured knee against his other leg and had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from groaning at the pain that radiated up and down his leg. He couldn't let Blair hear that, couldn't make Blair think he had to come up here and take care of him any more tonight.

  
Jim used a deep breathing exercise Blair had taught him to force the pain back to a manageable level, then relaxed his body one section at a time until he dropped toward sleep. The last thought he remembered having was of Blair's anguish as he stood before the podium at his press conference.

 

*****  


  
Dull gray light invaded Jim's sleep and he cracked open an eye, noting by the bedside clock that it was only seven a.m. He felt as dull and gray as the light; though the pain in his knee was not as intense as yesterday, it still throbbed at the edge of his consciousness just enough that he wanted to stay in bed and go back to sleep to try to escape it a while longer.

  
Noises from beneath him squashed the temptation to rest some more, however. He could hear banging and thuds and muffled curses from below -- from Blair's room. Jim pulled himself upright and saw his robe at the foot of the bed. Slipping it on, he cinched the belt tightly and struggled to his feet. He took a tentative step and found his leg not quite as unsteady as yesterday. Then he saw the cane that had been stored in the basement leaning against his night stand. Blair must have gone down there to get it and brought it up for him. Shaking his head at his friend's continued thoughtfulness, he picked up the cane and leaned his weight on it as he headed for the stairs. 

  
He couldn't imagine why Blair was up so early or what he was doing down there. It sounded like he was moving things around, picking up things and dropping them....

  
Jim finally made his way to the door of Blair's room and looked inside. 

  
The small room, never overly neat, was a shambles. Everything from the drawers and shelves seemed to be either sitting on the floor, or the futon, or had been put into boxes. Blair was on his knees in the corner, sorting books as he dropped them into two different boxes.

  
A feeling not unlike the one he'd had the first time the reporters rushed the truck using the word 'sentinel' swept over Jim; he felt like he was being pulled under a wave, drowning. He leaned heavily against the door jamb and took a deep breath.

  
"What are you doing?" he rasped out.

  
Blair looked up and it seemed to Jim that all the color drained from the other man's face. "Jim," he managed after a moment, "you shouldn't be up."

  
Jim shrugged off the solicitous tone. "What are you doing?" he repeated, stronger this time.  
"Uh... I did a lot of thinking last night, Jim," Blair began, still looking pale, "and uh... I think I should move out."

The statement caught Jim so off guard he almost lost his balance. Even though it was obvious Blair was packing his things, until he actually heard the words, the concept had refused to register in his mind.

  
"What?" he responded after a second to try to gather his wits. "Why?"

  
Blair got up from his knees and came toward him. "How would it look, Jim, if the guy who wrote a fraudulent book about you was still allowed to live in your house?"

  
"I... don't know. I... "

  
"If we're ever going to make this work, it's got to be all the way," Blair went on. "If the media is going to leave you alone, they have to believe there's no story. You're not a sentinel. There's no reason for an ex-anthropologist to be hanging around with you."

  
"But... " Jim couldn't seem to think, to focus. "We're friends," he finally finished lamely. "I don't intend to act like I'm holding it against you that you wrote what you did."

  
"Jim, that's really magnanimous of you, but what do you think the media would make of it? They'd keep digging until something came out, or my mom would get interviewed and she'd mean well and all but she'd let something slip about you or say we were living together and it would start all over again. You were getting hounded before. I can't let that happen again."

  
"But, I... " The pain in Jim's knee suddenly skyrocketed, his head started spinning and he couldn't focus his eyes very well. "I don't want you to go."

  
Blair glanced away. "Jim, we'll still be friends. I don't want that to change. If you need me to, I'll still help you with the your senses, but we've got to put some distance between us. You've gotta see that's the logical thing to do. And besides, man, I have to go find some kind of a job. They want me out of my office at the University by Friday; that means I'm going to have all that stuff I've been accumulating there to put somewhere and I know how it stresses you to get this place all cluttered -- "

  
Jim felt like he was losing his mind. With his senses reeling, sending him off balance, he reached out blindly and grabbed two handfuls of Blair's shirt front, the cane dropping unheeded to the floor. "You're not leaving," he ground out, dragging Blair close, their eyes connecting in a searing glance.

  
"Jim, listen. I've thought this through. I was up all night thinking about it. It's the only way --"  
Desperation surging through his veins, Jim yanked on the unresisting man, turning to shove him up against the wall, hard. 

  
"No!" he grated. He felt himself shaking, and flashed on that moment in Blair's office three and a half years ago, the day they'd first met, when Sandburg had driven him crazy in two minutes flat and he'd pinned him to the wall, calling him every stupid name he could think of. 

  
He didn't want to call Blair names now though. Jim realized he was losing it; he might burst into embarrassing sobs of grief if Blair kept up this talk of leaving him -- or he'd end up kissing him. Torn between his fear of losing Blair if he couldn't convince him to stay and making things worse if he acted on his deepest feelings, Jim's shaking increased, like an earthquake destroying his life's foundation. He clamped down hard on his emotions, but adrenaline was pounding through him, demanding some form of release, so in a fit of frustration, he pounded the wall next to Blair's head, then let him go abruptly, turned and staggered from the room.

  
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours he found himself in the bathroom after an embarrassing experience in Blair's bedroom. This time he was only washing sweat and tears from his face, and attempted to enjoy the irony of that as he tried desperately to get his breathing, and his feelings, under control.

  
Shaking, Jim gazed at himself in the mirror. His senses were erratic, his emotions out of control. He didn't know what was wrong with him but he knew he'd never felt like this before.

  
He closed his eyes and an image of Blair's face came to him, tired, worried -- and beautiful. Shuddering, he recognized that emotional upheaval had a tendency to make his senses go out of control, but what he was experiencing now was different than anything he'd ever felt before.  
He tried to analyze what was going on, but he wasn't sure he could trust his own mind at the moment. It felt as if all his senses were more attuned to Blair than ever, as though he were being drawn to him by something primal, something instinctual.

  
Maybe he was finally going crazy -- that was a strong possibility. He was a desperate man who though he'd been angry with his roommate less than twenty-four hours ago, now felt close to emotional collapse at the thought of that roommate moving out.

  
"Jim? Jim, are you okay in there?"

  
He wasn't ready to face Sandburg yet. Wasn't ready to see the look that would be in his eyes, whatever it might be: shock, anger, pity, concern.

  
He swallowed, cleared his throat, and called out over the sound of the water running in the sink. "Give me a minute, would you, Chief?" he managed, congratulating himself on sounding somewhat normal.

  
He tried to think. Blair had lived here for over three years now, crammed into the loft's spare room like a weekend guest, like a 'kid' just making do. He was almost thirty years old, he should be able to live where he wanted, how he wanted. 

  
_Isn't it time to let go? How can I put any more demands on him, after he's already given up so much?_

  
He pulled himself together, turning to go face his friend and tell him he was free to do whatever he wanted, whatever he thought best. Jim glanced around for the cane, then realized he dropped it in Blair's room when he grabbed him. Shrugging, he leaned against the sink, then the wall, as he headed toward the bathroom door.

  
He opened it, then leaned hard against the door jamb. There stood Blair, hair tousled, clothes rumpled -- _he never even got undressed for bed,_ Jim realized -- lips slightly parted in concern, eyes huge in his care-worn face.

  
"I'm sorry," Jim began, dizzy again as overwhelming need for Blair started surging uncontrollably. "You... can... " _Just say it,_ he mentally demanded of himself. _Say the words. You don't own him, he can do what he wants. Just tell him._ Blair's face blurred before his eyes. _To not see him every day..._ Jim reached out, his mouth opening soundlessly.

  
He was gripping Blair's shirt again, again pulling him close, but this time wrapping him tight in his arms, shaking from head to foot. He buried his nose in the sweet-scented curls next to Blair's ear and whispered brokenly, "Don't leave... don't leave... don't leave me..."

  
"Oh, Jim. Man..." Blair's arms came up around him and their warmth made something deep inside Jim break. He gasped, pain surging through him that was not from his knee. He lost his balance, but Blair had him. Blair steadied him, steadied them both, guiding them down to the floor.

  
Jim knew he was letting all his weight fall on Blair but he couldn't stop himself. He ended up draped over Blair's lap, arms still clenched tight around him, his head on Blair's shoulder.

  
"Easy," Blair breathed into Jim's ear. "Easy. I've got you... " Jim riveted his concentration on those words, the strength of Blair's arms.

  
He couldn't speak, the words clogged his throat and he didn't know which scared him more, the fact that he should speak them, needed to speak them, or the fact that once said they would lay bare his soul. There would be no taking them back. He would be totally vulnerable then and Jim knew deep down that he would never recover if Blair didn't understand, didn't feel the same way. And there was another fear, one that was even stronger than Jim's sense of self-preservation. The words could confuse Blair even more, make him feel like, once more, he had to do what Jim wanted instead of what he needed to do for himself.

  
Jim looked up into the face above him, searching for answers, for guidance. Blair's eyes were so large, so full of solicitude and devotion Jim's heart broke. He was hurting deeply, his eyes full of unshed tears that didn't even embarrass him.

  
Swallowing the huge lump in his throat, Jim forced his lips to form words. "I don't want you to leave," he managed in a hoarse croak, realizing he was repeating himself but too afraid to say the deeper truth in his heart.

  
Blair gulped, the movement of his adam's apple endearing. His lips trembled. "I don't really want to go," he whispered, the admission so soft only a sentinel could have heard it. Blair was in pain, an agony as real to Jim as if it were his own.

  
_It is my own. What hurts you, hurts me. And what hurts me, hurts you._

  
"Then stay," he whispered back. "Please?"

  
Blair blinked and a tear escaped, trailing down his unshaven cheek.

  
Jim collected it on his fingertip. The one tear, though evidence of Blair's heartache, answered some of his deep yearning to be one with Blair. With Blair's eyes locked on his own, he breathed out, his voice now a little more stable, "Please don't leave." 

  
Blair blinked back his tears, forcing them away with an almost brutal expression in defiance of his emotions.

  
"Please," Jim whispered again, "don't hurt." He hardly knew what he was saying. "I don't want you to hurt."

  
They stared at each other for a long moment of intense silence. Jim shifted position, grasping Blair's upper arms in his hands as though to keep him in place, to physically prevent him from leaving.

He looked at the man before him, the man he was holding and who held him... and realized how simple it would be at that moment to pull Blair even closer... to cover his full, beautiful lips with his own....

The need inside him was begging for Blair, throbbing for Blair. Jim looked into Blair's eyes, falling into their oceanic depths and willingly losing himself in them. Those eyes held everything worth living for, everything worth fighting for....  


*****  


  
The phone rang, startling Blair. Jim was zoned out, he realized. He'd looked about to say something -- or about to... kiss him -- and then, seeming to fall into Blair's gaze, he had simply zoned.

  
Again, the ringing startled him. _Ignore it. Help Jim first._

  
Another ring. The machine picked up, leaving a moment's silence while Jim's message played for the caller. A voice broke the quiet. "Jim? Blair? Either of you guys there? It's Brown. I'm at the hospital. It's Megan, she's -- "

  
Blair pulled out of Jim's hold and dashed for the phone, his heart tripping in terror. "Henri?" he almost yelled when he grabbed it up. "What's happening?"

  
"Blair, thank goodness I caught you. They're taking her back into surgery. I'm not sure what's wrong but it's something about her lung. It's collapsed or something."

  
"Oh, my God," Blair gasped. "Uh..." His muddled mind refused to cooperate, to think. He knew he couldn't just stay here and wait to hear something on her condition. "We'll be right there."  
"Okay. A couple of us are hanging out in the third floor waiting room."

  
"Thanks for calling, Henri. See you in a little while." Blair hung up the phone and looked to where he had left Jim. "Oh, man..."

  
Jim was sprawled where they had been, on the floor, halfway out of the bathroom door, but he wasn't looking at Blair, had obviously not heard the phone ring or the subsequent conversation. Blair rushed back to him, wondering how a zoned sentinel would react to the sight he'd fixated on being suddenly ripped away from him.

  
He sank to his knees and gently cupped Jim's face between his hands. "Jim?" Blue eyes stared sightlessly toward him, their expression bereft. "Oh, god..." Blair moved closer. "Jim, come on back, okay? You're just zoned. I didn't leave. I'm here. Listen to my voice and come out of it..."  
He stroked Jim's cheek tenderly. "Come on, Jim. I'm right here. I didn't leave. It was just the phone... but I bet you didn't hear it, did you?" he chided gently. "It's okay, you can come on back. Come out of it, Jim. I need you here." He brushed his fingers across Jim's cheek. "It was H on the phone, Jim. Megan's in surgery again. I'm worried about her. I need you. Jim, please... " He patted Jim's face in a clumsy effort to gain his attention. "Jim? Come on, man!" In desperation, he squeezed Jim's shoulders, shaking him a little. 

  
Jim responded at last, his eyes searching Blair's. 

  
"You with me?" Blair checked. Jim's eyes were focused again, Blair saw with relief.

  
Jim drew in a startled breath and made to pull away, but Blair held on. "It's okay, Jim. Take your time." He stroked Jim's shoulder. "It's okay."

  
After a moment, Jim shifted in Blair's embrace. "Did you say something about a phone call?"  
"Yeah. It's Megan. I think we should get to the hospital."

  
"Oh, god," Jim groaned. He pulled back and rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, we should go." He glanced around as though just discovering where they were. "Can you help me up?"

  
"Sure." Blair got to his feet and helped Jim gain his own, handing him the forgotten cane. "You need to get dressed," he pointed out. "I can go up and get you some clothes so you don't have to go up and down the stairs again."

  
Jim nodded, rubbing his eyes as though to wake himself up.

  
"Are you okay?" Blair asked again, needing reassurance. 

  
"I'm fine," Jim responded. He reached out a little wistfully to smooth a strand of hair back from Blair's forehead. Blair thought he'd never seen Jim so vulnerable.

  
Blair nodded, the feel of Jim's fingers making him shiver. "Good. We'll... we'll talk more later, okay?" The shivers did things to him he didn't have time to think about. They should be hurrying to get ready. "You shave or whatever. I'll be right back with your clothes."

  
Jim nodded, letting go of Blair's curl with a wistful look. Blair left him alone to rush upstairs.  


*****  


  
Jim seemed to be feeling better, Blair noticed with satisfaction as they descended in the elevator. He was still limping badly but was apparently not in as much pain as he had been yesterday and for that Blair was grateful. He didn't like seeing Jim hurt physically any more than he liked seeing him in emotional pain. 

  
However, Jim's emotional condition was a mystery to Blair at the moment. After coming out of the zone, Jim had retreated behind his old familiar barriers, his face as impassive as Blair had ever seen it. 

  
As they headed out to the hospital to see what was happening with Megan, Blair forced his mind back on the outside world. Casting a look at Jim to see if he was managing all right with his cane, Blair pushed open the door to the street.

  
"There they are!" a voice shouted. Blair heard the rush of footsteps and the clicking of camera shutters and instinctively halted his exit, blocking Jim from the reporters' view. 

  
A strong hand clamped over his shoulder. "It's okay, Blair." Jim's voice was steady but carried an undertone of anger. He pulled Blair back into the building and edged through the doorway himself, managing to pull his badge as he did so.

  
"All right, that's enough!" he barked out, holding his badge in view. "Either you leave now or I'll arrest all of you for harassment. Don't you know when a story's over?"

  
"Surely you have a comment about Mr. Sandburg's admission of fraud, Detective," one reporter shouted.

  
"It's not over if you and Mr. Sandburg are still friends after the lies he told about you," a woman's strident voice piped up.

  
"Look, lady," Jim snarled, glaring in her direction, "I'm not some kind of freak you can shine a light on and snap whatever pictures you want." Blair noticed that Jim ignored the woman's comment about them. 

  
"You do seem rather forgiving, you have to admit," she persisted.

  
Blair pushed the door open and stepped outside. "Just because I'm apologizing to Detective Ellison doesn't mean there's anything to report here."

  
The shutters clicked away and pens flashed over notebooks, Blair hoping what he'd said would satisfy their questions as to why they were together. Jim moved forward as though to bodily force the reporters to leave.

  
"Jim," Blair muttered, not wanting anything to happen that would make the reporters want to ask more questions.

  
He saw Jim flinch at the sound of his name. Sharp blue eyes turned to meet his gaze, then moved back toward the reporters.

  
"All right, you've got enough. Mr. Sandburg and I are friends, no matter what he did. End of story."

  
The woman stepped forward once more. "Oh, come on, Detective, don't you know that makes it even more interesting?"

  
"Maybe you'd find being booked interesting," Jim said threateningly.

  
She hesitated under his stern gaze and the other reporters seemed to be giving up also. In a few moments, they all left and Jim and Blair proceeded toward the truck.

  
"Man, aren't they ever going to quit?" Blair complained.

  
"I guess it's going to take time, Chief." Jim kept his eyes on the ground as they walked.

  
"You okay?" Blair asked him.

  
"Sure." Jim sounded anything but okay.

  
"I know how you hate that shit, man." Blair touched his shoulder.

  
Jim looked at him, the anger at the reporters gone, replaced with a look of concern. "So do you. You know, you didn't have to put the heat on yourself. I could -- "

  
"Could what? Let them call you a freak? Let the commissioner go through all your old cases? Make some mad scientist think about getting you into his lab?"

  
Jim looked away. "It's the truth," he whispered, his voice barely audible. He turned his gaze back to Blair. "Everything you ever stood for had to do with the truth. Now you're telling people you're a liar."

  
Blair blinked up at him. "You stand for the truth too, Jim. But it's a different kind of truth from mine. Yours makes this a safer place to live and you give it freely, with no thought about the cost to you, the danger it puts you in. Mine... mine was at your expense."

  
Jim winced at Blair's words and he gripped Blair's shoulder as they stood beside the truck. "I said yes, Sandburg. I told you you could study me, use the sentinel stuff for your dissertation. You even offered me an out when I first read the introduction and got all paranoid about it, but I told you to go ahead. It was my call, my judgment. I should have realized what the dissertation would mean, once it was published."

  
"Oh, come on, Jim... "

  
"No, think about it," Jim continued. "What your mother did just speeded up the time table. It was inevitable that word would get out eventually. Even with my name out of it, people would put two and two together... Look at the amount of time we spend together; how many people have seen me do things that can't be explained any other way.... "

  
"Jim, I think you've lost your mind," Blair said, plucking the keys out of the detective's hand and unlocking the passenger side of the truck. "Just climb in and shut up, okay?"

  
"You know I'm right," Jim said, having to have the last word. Blair grimaced as Jim buckled his seat belt. 

  
Once Jim was settled, Blair moved to go to the driver's door.

  
"Blair...!" A voice called out, stopping him in his tracks. The voice sounded suspiciously familiar.  
Blair turned only enough to get a look at the caller. A young man with light brown hair, dressed in jeans and a Cascade Jags jacket stood near the building, looking hopeful. 

  
Blair turned away and opened the truck door.

  
"Please -- " The guy hurried over, his hand grasping the door handle as Blair tried to close it. "I really need to talk to you! You're the only one who can help me!"

  
Blair didn't answer him. He slammed the door shut and slid the key into the ignition, gunning the truck's engine, knowing he'd been right when he thought he recognized the voice. It was the same guy who'd called him last night asking for help with his senses. He didn't look like a reporter, but Blair still didn't want to have anything to do with him. Even if by some chance he was what he said, a sentinel confused by his out-of-control senses -- Blair still had no intention of risking Jim's security by admitting he could help the guy. It was more likely he was some nut who'd seen the story in the paper and was hoping for a little attention. The man turned and ran off.

  
As he backed out into the street with the truck tires squealing, he half -expected some sort of comment from Jim about his driving. Instead, he felt a warm hand close over his shoulder. He took his eyes off the road long enough to glance toward Jim. "What?"

  
"Relax, Chief," Jim directed softly. "He didn't seem to be armed." His tone was slightly amused.  
Blair shrugged. "That was the guy on the phone, Jim. Something about him freaks me out. He claims he's got heightened senses but I don't believe him."

  
Jim shifted in his seat, turning to look back toward where the guy had been standing. "He's not a sentinel," he stated with certainty.

  
Blair's eyes moved immediately to Jim's face at the words. "You sure?"

  
"I admit I didn't pay real close attention to him back there," Jim answered, "but... no. I'd sense something about him -- but I'm not getting anything."

  
Blair remembered the strong reactions Jim had had to Alex Barnes. "Well, that's a relief," he responded. "The last thing we need right now is yet another sentinel wandering around Cascade," he said lightly.

  
"You can say that again," Jim muttered, his hand dropping from Blair's shoulder.

  
Neither man said much more the rest of the way to the hospital.

  
Blair pulled into the hospital driveway. "I'll drop you off at the entrance and then park. I don't want you to have to do that much walking."

  
"I'm okay," Jim contradicted him. "You don't have to coddle me."

  
"I'm not. But if Simon gets wind of me letting you walk around on that leg of yours, he'll never let me forget it and we don't want to upset him in his weakened condition. Humor me, okay?"

Blair stopped the truck and reached across Jim to open the passenger door.

  
Jim sighed dramatically. "I'm not an invalid," he complained again, but he maneuvered out of the truck. leaning on his cane as he headed for the doors to the hospital. "I'll wait for you inside and we'll go up together," he called back.

  
"Okay." Blair restarted the truck. 

 

*****  


  
Jim realized they'd been spending a lot of time at the hospital lately, too many times in the last couple of days. Now they were back again, worried about Megan. The hospital smells and sounds were nearly overwhelming to him and he felt a headache starting.

  
His pulse quickened as he saw Blair come through the hospital's revolving door and look around the lobby for him. Jim extended his senses, taking in Blair's heartbeat, his scent, appreciating the sight of him, the way his body always looked like he was in a hurry, the way his hair wildly floated around his face and shoulders, the way his physical presence never failed to light up a room. 

  
"I'm over here," he called out, watching Blair turn at the sound of his voice and approach him. Unable to resist, Jim put out a hand toward his friend, needing to touch him. Blair's shoulder was solid and warm, an anchoring reality that grounded Jim's hospital-affected senses. Blair's eyes went soft when they looked at him, Jim noted.

  
"Henri said they were in the third floor waiting room," Blair said, taking a moment to pat Jim's arm, understanding the way the hospital was making him feel.

  
They didn't talk as they rode up to the third floor, Jim worrying about Megan now that his senses were settling down. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out, walking toward the group of their friends in the waiting area. Henri was there, as were Rafe and Joel. All three looked up as Blair and Jim approached.

  
"How's she doing, Rafe?" Jim asked, noting that the glum expressions all three detectives wore seemed to worsen as he and Blair approached. 

  
"They took her in to surgery a little while ago," the young detective answered, directing his gaze at Jim and avoiding Blair's eyes.

  
"I don't understand," Jim said, shrugging out of his coat. It was obvious they were going to be here for a while. "I thought she was out of danger."

  
"She was coughing and it caused what the doctor called a pneumothorax -- her lung partially collapsed." Henri filled them in. "They're putting in a chest tube."

  
Jim felt a measure of relief. Even though a pneumothorax was serious, he'd worried that the situation was worse. The chest tube would relieve the pressure and Megan would be able to breathe more easily.

  
"I thought it was just a shoulder wound," Blair said, sounding scared.

  
"It was those bullets," Jim told him gently. "They caused a lot of damage. But she'll be okay, Chief."

  
"You sure?" Blair looked up at him for reassurance. Jim read guilt in his expression.

  
Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder and moved closer to him, aware of the surprise on Henri's face as he made the gesture. "I've seen these things before," he reassured. "It happened here in the hospital; that beats having a man in the field getting a collapsed lung."

  
"Guess so." Blair didn't seem that reassured.

  
"Here's the doctor," Joel spoke up for the first time.

  
Jim and Blair turned to see a young man in green scrubs approaching them.

  
"How's she doing, doc?" asked Henri, his brow furrowed with concern.

  
"Miss Connor tolerated the procedure well. She's back in her room now. The pneumothorax was in just the one lobe, not the entire lung. She's young and in good shape otherwise; I think the tube will be ready to come out in a few days."

  
Henri sighed in relief; a smile broke over Rafe's face and Joel closed his eyes as though saying a quick prayer. Blair looked up at Jim, his smile brilliant.

  
"Can we go in and see her?" he asked, turning his attention to the doctor.

  
The young physician looked around the anxious group of faces. ÒNot all of you at once. Don't tire her or expect her to entertain you, but yes, I'm sure it would do her good to know her friends are here and concerned."

  
"Thanks, Doctor," Jim said, offering his hand. "We'll just let her know we're here for her."  
The doctor excused himself after shaking Jim's hand. The other men looked at each other awkwardly. Henri spoke up finally. "Jim, you and... and Sandburg can go see her first if you want."

  
"Okay. Thanks, H," Jim nodded. While Rafe had seemed almost hostile toward Blair, Henri just looked confused and Joel's expression had been unreadable. He felt a wave of annoyance at their changed attitudes toward his partner, and he took Blair's elbow as they moved out of the waiting area and headed down the hall.

  
At the door to Megan's room they paused. Blair pushed the door open part way and glanced inside. Jim could see there was a nurse with Megan, adjusting an IV control panel.

  
"Can we come in?" Blair asked softly.

  
"Sandy!" Megan's voice was weak but she sounded delighted to see him.

  
Jim pushed the door open and kept his hand on the small of Blair's back as they proceeded into the room.

  
"Jim too?" Megan looked surprised to see him. "Rafe said you'd been shot... " She paused, trying to catch her breath.

  
"I'm fine," Jim reassured her as he stood by the bedside. "You don't have to talk. We just wanted to let you know we're here and thinking about you."

  
She smiled, her eyes big in her pale face. Her glance moved from Jim to Blair and back again. "You two are speaking to each other again?"

  
Jim looked across at Blair. "Yeah, we are."

  
"Oh, I'm so glad," Megan sighed. "I was worried."

  
"Don't worry about us, you just get better." He felt awkward, not really sure what to say to Connor.

  
"What happened?" she persisted, looking toward Blair. "Nobody's told me much of anything... just that Zeller died falling off the roof of the building."

  
"Blair went to the press," Jim told her, suddenly realizing that as one of the few people who knew the truth, they should tell Megan what Blair had done.

  
"What?" She turned toward his partner.

  
Blair looked sheepish. "Yeah. I made a statement that Jim isn't a sentinel. I told everyone that the dissertation was a... a fraud." His voice broke on the word and he had to look away.

  
"Sandy! No... "

  
It killed Jim to see the expression on Blair's face. He looked so ashamed... like he really felt as though he'd done something unethical.

  
"Jim," Megan turned disbelieving eyes on him, "you didn't let him -- "

  
"He didn't ask me first, Connor," Jim said.

  
"Sandy, what happened? Did -- did they believe you? Everyone?"

  
"Well, nobody's offering me a million dollars for the book anymore." Blair's eyes were on the floor, looking resigned. "And the university fired me. For the last time, I guess."

  
"No!" Connor again turned shocked eyes to Jim. "Jim, you can't let Sandy do this!" She looked as though she'd like to kill him.

  
Jim nearly recoiled from her gaze. "I... "

  
"It was my decision, Megan," Blair said softly. "And as far as anybody knows, that's what happened. I made it up. Jim's not a sentinel."

  
Even then, hearing the words from Blair's own lips tore at Jim's heart. He'd give his soul if he could to take that pain out of Blair's voice. Suddenly the ramifications of what Blair had done loomed in front of him. He saw himself as a monster for allowing the charade to continue. He was worse than a freak -- he was a coward. He could so easily do just what Blair had done, call a press conference, tell the world... _show_ the world exactly what he was. No, that would be pretty stupid, them playing dueling press conferences. On the job then... he could use his senses...put it in his report, let the commissioner investigate... prove it once and for all....

  
**_"There he is!"_**

**_  
"The Sentinel!"_ **

**_  
"Freak!"_**

  
The room started to spin.

  
Jim stumbled from the hospital room. His senses went out of control, the floor seemed to lurch under him, the air chilled, his eyesight tunneled. He found a door and pushed through it, relieved to recognize the men's room. He staggered to a sink and turned on the water, bending to splash some on his face.

  
As he leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, a familiar presence entered his twisted universe. He put out a hand, instinctively trying to warn Blair back, away from the poison he carried around with him. At the same time, a wound seemed to open inside his heart, an emptiness that only Blair's nearness could heal.

  
"Jim... hey," Blair tried to soothe him. "Don't go off on me, man... She was just reacting..."  
Jim kept his eyes closed tight. "She's right," he croaked out, "I can't let you do it..."

  
Instead of backing off, Blair moved in closer, his hands tight on Jim's shoulders, his voice fierce. "I didn't ask for your permission, man. I was the one who screwed things up. I was the one that had to fix them. You can't come rescue me on this." He paused, shaking Jim a little, then his voice lightened. "I wanted to rescue you, you big idiot."

  
Jim struggled to focus on Blair's face, his heart constricting in pain as he took in the earnest, well-loved expression. He dredged up a smile. "I know," he managed. "You mean so much to me," he whispered. "You've done so much for me. There has to be something more for me to give you than just...."

  
"Are we going to fight about who can fix whose life, Jim?" Blair asked. 

  
Jim reached out, the desperate need in his heart making him pull Blair close. He couldn't find words, he could only hang on tight. Being close to Blair made the world feel right again. His senses no longer careened out of control and he soaked up Blair's healing presence with relief.

  
"You know what?" he asked, his voice made soft by the feelings surging through him. 

  
"What?" Blair pulled back from Jim's hug to look up at him.

  
"You are a genius," Jim stated.

  
Blair looked incredulous. "Right." He started to turn, his face saying clearly that he thought Jim was full of shit.

  
"No, I mean that." Jim pulled him back to face him. "You're a genius. It was a no-win situation, no way out. But you found a solution, a brilliant one...."

  
"Not so brilliant," Blair disagreed. "Brilliant would have been taking the heat off you without saying I was a fraud."

  
"No." Jim shook his head. "That's why it was brilliant. Nobody else would have been smart enough to think of a plan like that. If you'd said anything else, done anything less, they wouldn't have believed you and given up on harassing me. But nobody would say they were a fraud if they were telling the truth, would they? Brilliant."

  
Blair shrugged. "Yeah, that's me." He sounded rueful. Then he sighed, pasting on a smile. "I appreciate you saying that though, Jim. Are you all right now?" he questioned, looking Jim over with a guide's scrutiny.

  
Jim nodded. As they'd talked, his senses had settled down. "I just had a... spike there or something," he told Blair.

  
"Okay," Blair returned, a promise in his eyes. "Come on, then. Megan's waiting for us."  
  
*****  
  
Blair kept a hand on Jim as they made their way back down the corridor to Megan's room. He didn't like the way Jim's senses seemed to be fluctuating. Extremely emotional situations always affected them but this was different from anything he'd seen before. He probably should be extra watchful of Jim in the next few days.

  
As they walked through the door, Megan glanced up at them worriedly. She reached out a hand, looking pale and anxious.

  
"Jim... I'm sorry...."

  
He limped to her side, taking the hand she offered and Blair stayed close, watching Jim close his eyes before he spoke. "It's okay," he whispered.

  
"What are you boys going to do now?" she asked, including Blair in her gaze. She was fighting her fatigue to continue the conversation.

  
"We haven't really figured that out yet," he admitted. "I got my observer status with the department to work on my dissertation. Now there's no reason for me to be there."

  
"But I need you there." Jim's voice was raw with emotion and Blair felt the intensity of his gaze even before he looked up to meet the penetrating blue eyes. "I want you there."

  
Flustered, Blair tried to lighten the mood. "Well, I think some people around the office might not agree with you." 

  
"I'm sure something can be worked out," Megan said. "Whatever happens, I support both of you."  
Blair drew a deep breath. He hadn't realized how much those words would mean to him until he'd heard them. "Thanks, Megan. For right now, the official story is that Jim's sensory powers aren't anything out of the ordinary. The only thing in my paper that was real was the data on tribal cultures."

  
The sympathy in her gaze was almost too much for him to take. "How have people reacted?"

  
"Aside from the University firing me, there's been too much chaos for anybody else to have time to say anything so far," Blair shrugged. "But my reception out there in the waiting room wasn't too warm just now."

  
"What?" Megan looked aghast. "They're your friends -- "

  
"But Jim's a fellow cop. As far as they know, I hung around for the last three years making up lies about him."

  
Megan gasped, her face going a shade more pale. She coughed, her hands going to her chest as she did. Blair moved to her side. "Megan, don't worry about me. I'm fine. The guys'll come around. You just think about getting better."

  
"Jim?" she asked as though imploring him to do something.

  
"I'm working on it," he told her. "But you just rest now. The others want to come in and see you too. We just wanted you to know what was going on."

  
She nodded, struggling to relax and calm her breathing. "Keep me posted?"

  
"Sure thing," Blair assured her. "It'll be all right." He realized he'd been saying that to a lot of people, his mother, Jim. And yet he still had no idea how everything was supposed to be all right.   
  
*****  
  
Jim rode in the passenger seat of the truck, leaning half against the door so he could easily watch Blair's profile as he drove. Jim's knee was throbbing slightly -- he'd probably walked too much on it while at the hospital. When the others had gone in to visit Megan, he'd gone by himself to see Simon, despite BlairÕs wanting to go with him. 

  
He'd been pleased to see Simon was awake and feeling a bit better. Some of Jim's guilt over his captain being shot eased at the evidence that Banks was going to survive. Since Simon had been up to talking for a bit, Jim had asked him what they could do for Blair, explaining he wanted to somehow thank Blair for what he'd done and to make up for the loss of his university position. Simon had suggested they offer Blair a chance to join the department and said he would look into expediting the paperwork as soon as he was up to it. Jim liked the idea; now all he had to do was figure out how to broach it to Sandburg.

  
"You want to stop for some early lunch?" Blair asked, unaware of the direction of Jim's thoughts.

  
"No," Jim decided. "My knee hurts and I'd like to put my foot up for awhile." He knew he should have said yes, that Blair was probably hungry. "We could get some take out," he added after a moment. "My treat. Any restaurant you want."

  
Blair glanced over at him. "Boy, you are feeling rough," he joked.

  
"Hey, I don't have to be sick to be generous," Jim protested, grinning.

  
"Whatever, I'll take you up on that," Blair grinned back.  
  
*****  
  
"It's about time you reported back here!" Alex Yeager spoke sharply as he looked up from his computer to see Patrick Flynn entering the office. "Have you managed to make contact with Sandburg yet?" Yeager's voice was gruff with a subtle European accent.

  
Flynn shrugged out of his Jags jacket and dropped into a chair in front of Yeager's desk, slouching negligently, crossing one leg over his other thigh. "Sort of." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crushed package of cigarettes. "I saw both of them coming out of their building this morning." As he continued speaking, he no longer sounded American, his voice dropping into an Irish accent. 

  
"And?" Yeager demanded, shoving a large crystal ashtray toward the edge of his desk so Flynn could use it.

  
"Before I could make a move, a bunch of those damn reporters rushed them again." Flynn chuckled. "You should've seen them back off when Ellison pulled his police badge. He sure thinks he's in charge of everything."

  
Yeager rubbed at his right eyebrow. "We'll see about that," he said quietly, a half smile crossing his lips for a moment. "You said the reporters backed off -- didn't you take that opportunity...?"

  
"I yelled out to Sandburg," Flynn went on. "But he hopped into the driver's seat of Ellison's truck and gunned the engine. Even grabbing hold of his door didn't make him stop."

  
"So you just gave up?" Yeager demanded, sitting forward and looking angry.

  
"Look, Alex," Flynn answered, flicking the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray, "he doesn't believe I've got something going on with me senses. I don't think that's the way to go to get to him after all."

  
Yeager sighed. "You may be right. Both of them are bound to be on their guard these days."

  
"So what do you want to do?" Flynn asked, leaning back and blowing smoke rings as though he didn't care much about the answer. "Plan 'B'?"

  
Yeager answered with another question. "How did Ellison seem to you?"

  
"He was using a cane and limping pretty badly. I'd say that gunshot has him functioning at less than full capacity."

  
"We could take advantage of that," Yeager mused. "But I hate to take them by force. We don't want either of them damaged too much before we have a chance to examine Ellison."

  
Flynn shrugged. "Might not be able to help it. They're bound to be extra careful right now. With Ellison's background, you said it wouldn't be easy to catch them off guard."

  
"No," Yeager agreed. "I still think it would be best to take them separately. If we have Sandburg, it shouldn't be too difficult to get Ellison."

  
Flynn smiled slyly at that remark but before he could comment, the door to the office opened again, admitting Nick Carpelli. He was a tough-looking man with a military-style buzz cut not unlike the way Ellison had worn his hair several years ago. Flynn remembered from the photographs Yeager had shown him when he'd first described the operation to Flynn.

  
"Mr. Yeager," Nick spoke up, striding directly to the desk, ignoring Flynn's presence. His noticeable Brooklyn accent got on Flynn's nerves. "I got something from the surveillance tapes this morning."

  
"What?" Yeager responded, turning his attention to the newcomer.

  
"I think Sandburg is moving out of Ellison's apartment. They were talking about how it would look better to the press and all if they didn't live together."

  
Flynn couldn't help a snort of laughter at that. He'd paid close attention to the by-play between the two men as they had exited the building at 852 Prospect. Though he hadn't quite decided what their exact relationship was, there was no doubt they could use the feelings between Ellison and Sandburg to good advantage.

  
Yeager glared at Flynn but he sounded pleased when he responded to what Carpelli said. "Well, if they're not joined at the hip, it ought to be a lot easier to take Sandburg. Good work, Nick. I thought we wouldn't get much from that bug you managed to put in the place, because it could only pick up what was said in Sandburg's room."

  
"If it was anywhere else or any stronger, it would be too easy for Ellison to find it, you said," Nick said defensively. "It didn't sound like Ellison wanted Sandburg to leave," he added.

  
Yeager was rubbing his brow again, a gesture he often used when considering options, Flynn realized. "Maybe we can do a few things to help him accept Sandburg's decision." He glanced at Flynn. "What do you say, Patrick? Any suggestions?"

  
Flynn crushed his cigarette out in the crystal receptacle. "Well, there's always the press."  
As he watched, Yeager's mouth slowly curved up in a feral smile.  
  
*****  
  
After eating lunch, Blair went out to do some errands, leaving Jim at the loft. He stretched out on the couch, remote in hand, and tried to watch a little ESPN, but he was too tired to pay much attention. He flipped around the dial for a few minutes but couldn't find anything else interesting -- and considered himself lucky not to see anything about the sentinel story on the news. He finally dozed off despite the slight throbbing of his leg.

  
Jim woke suddenly and sat up, feeling as though some noise had awakened him. He rubbed his face and looked around for the source of the unknown sound. The loft was quiet though, and filled with the shadows of late afternoon. Jim glanced at his watch, wondering why Blair wasn't back yet.

  
He fumbled for the remote and found it had slipped to the floor. Picking it up, he turned off the television, extending his hearing. What had disturbed him? Was it a sound or the presence of someone else nearby?

  
Jim opened up his sight and his sense of smell, becoming certain that no one had actually been inside the loft. Carefully lowering his leg to the floor, he levered up off the couch and made his way to the balcony doors. He checked outside but found nothing suspicious in the street below.  
Still, Jim felt disconcerted, anxious. He returned to the living room, keeping his senses wide open, seeking anything different about the loft, anything that didn't belong.

  
He limped across the living room and leaned on the kitchen island. What was different? What was wrong here?

  
Jim's attention was drawn to Blair's room. Approaching the door, he could hear something. What was that sound, that barely perceptible hum? He concentrated his hearing while slowly pacing the length of the room.

  
The noise was coming from Blair's desk. Now he could sense static along with the hum; it ran lightly over him, teasing the hairs on his forearms. He ran his fingertips over the desk, under the blotter, inside the drawers. Finally, on the inside of the bottom drawer, he found it. Small, barely the diameter of a penny and no thicker, it was a very sophisticated bug.

  
Jim stood for a moment, staring at it in shock. Someone had actually been in his home, planting this. Who was it? Though his first thought was of an unscrupulous reporter, Jim quickly rejected that idea. The device was too high tech, more like something the CIA would use. A shudder ran through him, settling like a fist gripping his stomach. Before he could think about it, Jim dropped the bug to the floor and smashed it under his boot. Immediately, he regretted the action, knowing it should have been examined for any evidence. Still, he knew instinctively that whoever had planted it wouldn't have been stupid enough to leave fingerprints and it might still be possible to determine the manufacturer even now that the bug was broken.

  
A sudden blast of emotion sent his senses spiking. Anger, fear and concern rocked him and he found himself staggering under the weight of his terror. Someone was stalking them, stalking Blair. He had to let Sandburg move out of the loft, had to make sure they couldn't find him.   
He looked around the room, surprised to find he was seated on Blair's bed. In the corner were the boxes that Blair had been packing just this morning. Jim got to his feet and moved to the boxes, grabbing more of Blair's books and dropping them in, packing them haphazardly. When the boxes were full, he moved to the closet, finding a large duffle. He placed it on the bed and began packing Blair's clothes. His hands were shaking; he couldn't think. He could only attempt to make Blair safe.

  
The dissertation -- what about it? Jim lurched over to Blair's desk, rifling through the papers and notebooks there. He wasn't sure what his friend had done with the sentinel findings since the dissertation had been leaked to the media. Surely there was still a copy on Blair's computer and possibly there were plenty of papers and written notes too. Jim found a suitcase and started stuffing everything from Blair's desk into it.

  
His heart was pounding, various terrible scenarios running through his head as he worked. They were spying on his guide; he had to protect him, make him safe.

  
Suddenly he realized that he hadn't searched the rest of the loft. They could have planted other bugs. Jim turned, leaning heavily on his cane and headed back out into the living room.  
  
*****  
  
Blair swung the loft door open while trying to balance two bags of groceries in his arms. He shouldered his way in and moved directly to the counter to set them down. Managing to deposit them without either one toppling over, he turned to shrug out of his jacket, then froze. 

  
The living room was a mess. Books and CD's and papers were everywhere. Furniture was pushed out of place, the coffee table overturned. The balcony doors were wide open and the plants out there had been knocked over, the dirt from their pots scattered everywhere.

  
Blair gulped, moving to look up at Jim's bedroom. What he saw there scared him more than the rest of the disturbance. The bedcovers had been tossed around and were hanging over the railing. He could see the dresser drawers standing open and their contents spilling out of them.

  
"Jim? Jim!" Without waiting for an answer, he pounded up the stairs, skidding to a stop when he found Jim crumpled on the floor beside the bed.

  
Dropping to his knees beside him, Blair called his name again. "Jim... " He looked zoned, as though his legs had given out on him and dropped him where he'd been standing. Blair cupped his face in both hands. "Jim... what happened? Can you hear me? Come out of it."

  
After a few moments of urging, Jim finally stirred, sitting up abruptly and grabbing Blair's forearms. "You've got to get out of here," he croaked, his eyes wide and desperate.

  
"What?" Blair stared at him. "What's going on? What are you talking about?" He tried to extricate his arms from Jim's tight grip but Jim only held him more firmly. "What happened?"

  
Jim blinked and seemed to realize they were sitting on the floor of the messy bedroom. "I... " He swallowed as though trying to get enough moisture in his mouth to talk. "I found a bug... in your room." Stricken eyes held Blair. "Someone is stalking you... us... I don't know who... but... you've got to get out of here."

  
"Jim, calm down," Blair said, trying to keep his own voice steady. "Come on, let's talk this through, figure out what's going on. I'm not following you."

  
"They know where you live," Jim continued urgently. "I don't know if I can keep you safe here. I want you safe..." He let go of Blair's arms as suddenly as he'd grabbed them, and pulled him to his chest. "I want you safe."

  
Blair could feel how hard Jim's heart was pounding. "I want you safe too, Jim," he said firmly. "But come on, we can't talk about this here. Get up. Come downstairs. I'll make us some coffee and we'll think this through."

  
Blair managed to get Jim to his feet and helped him navigate the steps down to the living room. Blair left him seated on the couch and moved to quickly get some coffee started. As the dark liquid began dripping into the pot, he glanced over to find Jim sitting with his hands clenched on his thighs, scrubbing back and forth as though his muscles pained him, as though unbearable tension was driving him.

  
Blair hurriedly poured two cups of coffee and laced Jim's with milk and sugar, then headed over to the couch. He put them down on the table and knelt on the couch beside Jim, one hand at the other man's shoulder, trying to calm him with his touch. "Okay, let's start over. What got all this started? How did you find... whatever it was?"

  
"I fell asleep and something... woke me up," Jim said after taking a sip from his steaming mug.

  
"What woke you?" Blair continued to rub softly at his shoulder.

  
"I didn't know at first." Jim looked at him, his eyes still desperate. "I opened my senses, started listening... and followed what I could hear to your room. There was a listening device hidden in the top drawer of your desk."

  
"Oh my god." Blair brought his hand up to his mouth in shock. "How could somebody...? When do you suppose...?"

  
"That's just it," Jim groaned. "I don't know how, I don't know when! I'm off my game, Chief. I've let someone get in here, get too close -- I've put us in danger...."

  
"Hold it, will you!" Blair told him, unable to keep from sounding aggravated by Jim's guilt feelings. "How is this your fault?"

  
Jim gave him a disbelieving, stricken look. "Somebody was in here and I never suspected, never picked up any signs. They bugged your room and I never heard it." His voice was tight, self-accusatory. 

  
"Look, who would suspect anything like that? We have been a little distracted, after all. And you've been shot, on that medication they gave you at the hospital. You found it today -- it couldn't have been here very long. And _nobody_ else could have heard it and found it, not without being told it was there to look for it." He put his hand back on Jim's shoulder and felt him shrug. "The important thing is, you did find it. And it looks like you pretty well searched the rest of the place," he added, glancing around at the disassembled loft again.

  
"There weren't any more," Jim told him, running a hand through his hair. He picked up his mug and gulped down another swallow of coffee. "And I... destroyed the one in your room."

  
Blair nodded, feeling inordinately relieved, both that they weren't being listened to and that Jim seemed to be calming down. "So, what do we do now?"

  
"That's why I want you out of here." Jim's voice went strident again and Blair's gut clenched. "If it's you they're after, I don't want them to be able to find you."

  
"Wait a minute, Jim." Blair held up placating hands. "Why do you think they're 'after' me? Doesn't it make more sense to think they're just trying to get more to write about?"

  
Jim shook his head. "The bug was very sophisticated. I can't imagine any reporter having access to something like it. It looked like... CIA or maybe even something... " His voice faltered and it was a moment before he could go on. "Something foreign."

  
Blair felt like there was a band around his chest constricting his lungs, but he made an effort not to panic, knowing Jim was still hovering on the edge himself. "Why would the CIA or some foreign whatever want me?"

  
Jim didn't answer. He looked down and started rubbing at his thighs again, his face pale.

  
"You think they want you," Blair breathed. On impulse, he reached out and took hold of both Jim's hands, stilling their motion. "You're sending me away because you think they're coming after you."

  
Jim seemed to ignore his touch. He spoke without looking up at Blair. "I packed most of your things while you were out. You need to do something with the rest of your research."

  
His voice was like a stranger's. Blair tried desperately to squelch the hurt Jim's words sent through him, knowing that his partner was trying to protect him. But they'd been down this road before, Jim throwing him out of the loft in some misguided attempt to keep him out of harm's way.

  
"I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice tight and somehow as cold as Jim's sounded.

  
"Sandburg -- " Jim looked up, his eyes filled with panic.

  
"No, listen, Jim," Blair said, meeting those terrified eyes. "I'm not leaving you with this hanging over us. I wouldn't feel safe anywhere else to begin with and if I'm not here, who's going to watch out for you?"

  
"I might not be able to protect you." Jim's words were whispered, like a dark secret, like some crime he might commit. Pulling his wrists out of Blair's grip, he gestured toward his injured leg. Jim wrapped his arms around his stomach and looked away.

  
"This morning you were begging me not to move out," Blair whispered, hating to use Jim's own words against him but having no other weapon at the moment. "I thought I should leave to keep the publicity hounds off our backs. But this is more serious. I don't care what the newspapers write. If somebody is out there, trying to get _you_ \-- then I'm not going anywhere."

  
"They bugged your room -- " Jim began, but Blair interrupted him.

  
"What could they possibly want with me, Jim? The only thing I have is information I made up about a guy having hyperactive senses." He gulped, certain he knew what they did want, the only thing 'they', whoever they were, _could_ want and he was the one who'd told them where to look for what they wanted. The implications hit him like a sledge hammer to his chest. As bad as Jim hated to be thought of as a freak, as much as he'd wanted his abilities kept secret, there was one thing he feared more. The army or the CIA or some unscrupulous scientist getting hold of him and using him, dissecting him, making him their lab rat -- that was the terror at the root of all Jim's fears.

  
"God, Jim... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Blair could hardly get the words out, they felt so paltry, so useless.

  
"You couldn't know..." Jim began, then seemed to catch himself. " It doesn't matter." He looked up and gripped Blair's wrist tightly. "But if they come for me, I don't want you here." His voice sounded like he'd swallowed broken glass.

  
"I won't leave you alone," Blair said with as much conviction as Jim had sorrow in his voice. "There's got to be something we can do. We don't need to just sit here. Isn't there some way to investigate, to figure out who we might be up against?"

  
Jim swallowed hard, a sad, sheepish smile on his face. "I didn't say I wanted to just sit here."

  
"Good. Who do we call first?"   
  
*****  
  
Jim paced the living room of the loft, every step difficult because of his leg injury. He ignored the pain, however, his mind much more occupied with other concerns. Blair was sleeping in his room but the Sentinel couldn't rest. He had to keep watch, now that he knew someone was watching them. He listened to Blair's heartbeat as he walked, the steady rhythm the only thing keeping him calm.

  
He kept running over the facts that they knew, few though they were. The first call they had made was to Jack Kelso, Blair's friend at the University who had been with the CIA. Kelso hadn't known of any operatives being in Cascade or any interest being expressed in Jim since the dissertation had been in the news. Jim could tell that Kelso had wanted to ask questions of his own but the man hadn't voiced them. He'd only commented that he hoped everything was all right and that he wished Blair well. 

  
Jim had made other calls, to some old buddies from his days in Covert Ops, but hadn't turned up any leads. Not learning anything useful had not helped to calm his fears -- Jim knew someone was out there watching them and he didn't think they were going to go away now that he'd discovered and destroyed their bug.

  
He kept his senses wide open, monitoring the street outside, the roof, the building itself, everything nearby, all the while keeping track of Blair. He was tired but he couldn't let down his guard, not until he knew who was watching them and what they wanted.

  
A hitch in Blair's breathing brought Jim up short. He paused in his pacing and turned automatically toward Blair's room. Blair was still sleeping, but something had disturbed him. Jim focused his senses on Blair's room and the fire escape outside, finding no one out there, but still concerned.  
He stepped into Blair's room, his eyes easily adjusting to the darkness inside. Blair rolled over onto his back as Jim watched from the doorway and the Sentinel was struck with the memory of being in this same spot the night before, when he'd watched Blair sleep and been so aroused by the sight....

  
_God_ \-- Jim gulped, realizing that the bug might have been in Blair's room even then, that the sophisticated electronics could have picked up the sounds of Jim's panting breaths and what had happened when he touched himself while looking at his friend's body stretched out across his bed. A shudder went through Jim as he felt the heat of embarrassment rush over him. Had their eavesdroppers heard, been able to decipher what the sounds had meant? He tried to be realistic, to tell himself that if he hadn't woken Blair, those listening probably hadn't picked up on what he'd done. 

  
His eyes fell on Blair's face, alert to any signs of distress. A frown pulled at his full lips and a line etched itself between his eyes. His soft lids trembled, thick lashes casting shadows on cheeks that, to Jim in the darkness, looked pale. He held his breath, captivated by Blair's beauty, by how much he loved him. Yet he was terrified for Blair's safety. Everything else that had happened was nothing compared to the unknown danger stalking them. 

  
Blair moaned then, his hands clutching the blankets, his legs moving restlessly. Jim stepped closer, his heart pounding.

  
Blair became more agitated, his legs fighting the covers as though he was trying to run. "No way, you bastard!" he groaned. His arms came up suddenly as though to shove at someone threatening him.

  
Jim was beside him in an instant, gripping his arms, speaking soothingly as he attempted to wake him. "Chief... Blair... wake up...."

  
"I won't -- !" 

  
Blair's eyes opened mid-shout and he sat up, gasping, looking around his room as though he didn't recognize it. He drew in a ragged breath. "Jim. What -- ?"

  
"You were dreaming," Jim told him, shifting to sit beside him, putting a hand to Blair's shoulder to steady him.

  
"Shit." Blair groaned and ran a shaking hand through his tangled hair. "Sorry, man."

  
"Hey, it's okay," Jim answered, feeling clumsy as he patted Blair's back. "It's not like I was asleep."

  
Blair looked sharply at Jim. "What?" He craned around to look at his bedside clock. "It's two-thirty."

  
Jim forced a small smile. "Yeah. So?"

  
"Why are you up?" Blair wasn't deterred by Jim's smile.

  
Jim shrugged, unable to come up with anything more eloquent than that. 

  
"Look man, if you're gonna stay up, I should stay up with you."

  
"One of us should get some sleep, Chief." Jim tried to admonish him.

  
Blair rolled his eyes. "Thanks for waking me though." He pulled the covers up around him, shivering and Jim knew it wasn't from the chill in the room.

  
"What was the dream about?" Jim helped rearrange the blankets for Blair.

  
Blair shivered again, once more shoving back his hair from his face. "I don't know... exactly. Somebody... some guys -- they had me. They were asking about you." He looked up at Jim, dark blue eyes so full of concern and caring they made Jim flush. "I kept telling them, 'no, he's not a sentinel. I made it all up.'" He gulped hard and looked away. "They didn't believe me."

  
Jim clasped both Blair's shoulders, wanting to pull him into his embrace but restraining the impulse. "Who'd've thought?" he asked softly. Blair cared about him so much, he realized, that even in his dreams he was trying to protect Jim.

  
"Remember when I was asked about how I could be sure it was Tommy Juno that shot Danny Choi?" he said, the memory pricking at the wound of Danny's loss. "Nobody would have believed me if I'd said I could see that far. That's what we always believed, wasn't it? And now, we see the story wasn't as fantastic as we always thought. It didn't take that long for that guy Graham or the public to believe it." His tone was wry. 

  
"I thought only anthropologists would be interested in reading my paper, Jim," Blair answered, his own voice hushed. "I never thought that asshole Sid would leak it to the press or that anybody would care about it. If I ever thought anything like that could have happened, I'd've made sure your name wasn't even in the rough draft."

  
Jim looked into the huge, sincere blue eyes and had to choke down his feelings. "I know, Blair. I know that wasn't what you intended." All the emotion of the last few days rushed back over him, combined with the worry and fear for Blair's safety. He could sense Blair's own grief and apprehension, and at the same time, the warmth and love that emanated from him. Jim was nearly overwhelmed by the powerful feelings that were flowing between them.

  
Blair's eyes looked desperate and Jim wanted to help him, comfort him. He wanted to find a safe harbor where both of them could weather the present storm, where they could heal and find their way back to comfortable closeness. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled Blair to him, his senses hungering desperately for intimacy with the man who represented safety and stability and love in Jim's life. As his guide's body came into contact with his own, Jim moaned out his relief and need, shuddering involuntarily, all his nerves seeming to open up, ready to absorb Blair's essence into himself.

  
Blair's arms went around him, tight and strong, answering Jim's unspoken need. "We're going to get through this," Blair whispered, as though Jim had come to him for comfort, as though he didn't have fears of his own. His ability to soothe Jim's soul had never been more apparent or precious to the Sentinel. He sighed. Blair felt so good to him, sturdy and warm, smelling of chamomile and sage and healthy sweat, his heart beating steadily in rhythm with Jim's own, his breath moist against Jim's throat... and Jim's body could not help but respond. He reached up to sink his hands into the generous softness of Blair's curls and inhaled deeply, shivering with barely leashed desire. He knew he was getting hard and couldn't prevent it -- and hoped that it didn't become apparent to Blair. As he tried to fight the arousal, he cast about for anything he could use to distract himself and his previously ignored leg injury made its presence known. As soon as he acknowledged it, a twinge went through him, pain from the wound making him flinch in Blair's arms, and effectively forestalling his imminent hard on.

  
"Jim?" Blair questioned, concern in his voice as he pulled back slightly to look into his face.  
Jim ducked his head, face heating. "I'm okay. It's just my knee..."

  
"You've been on it too much," Blair declared automatically. He let go of his tight hold around Jim's back to shift position, looking down toward the wounded limb. "Oh man," he exclaimed, "look at that. It's bleeding, Jim."

  
Surprised, Jim leaned over to check for himself and noted that his pant leg was soaked through with new blood. Already Blair was disentangling himself from his covers to get up. Jim grasped his arm, about to say he could take care of it.

  
"No," Blair cut him off. "You stay right here. You shouldn't put your weight on it. Lie down and put it up." Wearing only his t-shirt, sweat pants and socks, Blair padded out of the room and Jim heard him opening the medicine cabinet to retrieve supplies from the bathroom.

  
Sighing, Jim did as he'd been told, unfastening his pants to pull them off and check the bloody bandage, taking care not to get his blood on Blair's bedcovers. Though he didn't feel exactly comfortable lying on Blair's unmade bed without his pants, there wasn't much else he could do at the moment. His knee was throbbing.

  
Blair returned in a moment, arms laden with first aid supplies, along with a glass of water and some Advil in a bottle. "Here," he said, indicating the pain medicine, "take a couple of those. I know it's hurting you."

  
Wordlessly, Jim complied. He swallowed two of the pills, knowing they'd upset his stomach but not caring about that right now. He almost wished for the Demerol they'd given him at the hospital; though it hadn't helped that much and had gone to his head, it had at least taken the edge off the pain for him. 

  
He clenched his jaw as Blair pulled off the reddened gauze that had been covering his knee and watched his partner efficiently clean the seeping wound and press a clean pad over the area in an attempt to get the slow bleeding to stop. It hurt but Jim didn't flinch or squirm, knowing it had to be done. He had to keep his weight off his leg if he expected the injury to be able to begin healing. And with the danger out there, he had to get himself to full capacity....

  
"Jim..." Blair's velvet voice penetrated his consciousness and Jim looked up into his eyes, realizing he must have zoned slightly. He rubbed his face, shaking off the effects of the brief lapse.

  
"I'm all right," he informed Blair. "I just... " He let his voice trail off, knowing any excuse was going to sound lame.

  
"I know," Blair's voice soothed him, while his hands gently finished re-bandaging his knee. "You're worried. But Jim, you don't have to patrol the perimeter of the loft all night. You can rest and still keep checking for anybody trying to break in. And tomorrow, we can go out to get an alarm system so you can get some real rest."

  
Jim sighed, chagrined that he might be unable to keep his guide and his home safe. They could find themselves under attack at any moment, and he shouldn't let down his guard. 

  
He gripped Blair's wrist, wanting to say so much to him, to tell him about his love and his fears for their safety, fears that had always been in the back of his mind but that he'd ignored too long. He wanted to pack Blair up and get in the truck and go someplace far, far away from Cascade, someplace that hadn't seen the reports about the dissertation.

  
Blair met his eyes, calm in the face of Jim's anxiety, full of trust and understanding. "We're going to be all right," he offered in his most soothing tone. "I want you to get some rest, okay? I want you to stay off that leg for a few hours." He finished with the bandage and pressed Jim back against the pillows. "Rest right here, in my bed, Jim." He adjusted the blankets to pull them over Jim's bare legs, covering him warmly. "I'll take the next watch, okay?" His words were light but Jim knew he meant them. "If I hear anything, I'll wake you up, all right?"

  
Jim couldn't deny that he was tired, the pain in his leg helping to wear him out, and Blair's offer was tempting. He released his hold on Blair's wrist, stroking up his arm to his shoulder, which he rubbed gratefully. "Okay," he sighed. "But don't let me sleep too long. I'm fine, really. And I don't want you worrying too much." 

  
"It's okay, Jim." Blair leaned close, running his fingers over Jim's forehead in a gesture so soft it felt like a caress. "We're going to be okay. Just rest awhile now." He shifted just a little closer, bringing his forehead into contact with Jim's. It would be so easy to reach up to kiss him, Jim thought, a sob catching in his throat. He held back, almost more afraid of what kissing Blair would mean than of the danger stalking them, thinking himself a complete fool.

  
Then Blair surprised him by touching his lips to Jim's forehead. The kiss was brief, chaste, tender, and Jim suppressed a moan as his friend sat the rest of the way up, shifting away from Jim to lean back against the wall. Jim met his eyes and Blair gave him a calm smile, as though he hadn't just kissed him, as though the tension in the air was something he hadn't noticed, something all in Jim's mind. And maybe that was true, Jim realized. Sighing in frustration, Jim closed his eyes, knowing that he needed to sleep to get his equilibrium back.  
  
*****  
  
Blair waited until Jim's breathing deepened, then slipped off the end of the bed to gather up the discarded pants, taking them into the bathroom to rinse out the blood staining the knee before it could set.

  
When he returned, he found Jim stirring restlessly, his face creased in a grimace of pain. Blair moved to the bedside immediately, picking up Jim's hand.

  
"Shhh..." he murmured. "I'm back. I'm right here, Jim." Knowing that Jim had sensed him leave the room, Blair was pleased when the lines of stress eased from JimÕs face as he whispered reassurance to him. Even sleeping, Jim must have his senses dialed up, still trying to keep watch over the loft.

  
It took some time before Jim relaxed fully once more and Blair was satisfied he was truly asleep. All the while, he kept up a patient litany, his voice pitched low to subliminally soothe the worried Sentinel.

  
While he was talking, Blair was considering the problem at hand. It had obviously been his dissertation that had alerted the people who had placed the surveillance device about Jim's abilities. He couldn't do anything about the information that had already been leaked to the media. But he still had tons of written test results here at the loft, and all of his tapes and other notes. The information that had been obtained by the press had been of a more general nature.  
Blair stared at the suitcase where Jim had put his research notes. There was one thing the anthropologist could do about that information, something that had crossed his mind already but that he had never seriously thought he would have to do.

  
Once again easing off the bedside, he moved quietly across the room and picked up the case, half-shocked at its weight as he lugged it into the living room. He placed it on the floor and reached for the fireplace matches, waiting until the fire was burning steadily before he reached inside for the first notebook.

  
The flames licked hungrily at the torn-out pages Blair fed them, and he sat there watching them burn, sorrow clawing at the back of his throat as he consigned more than four years of work to the flames. Not just his work, his heart and his soul. His theories, his data, his tests and experiments, his hopes and his dreams... his life. Yes, he'd told Jim it was "just a book" but they'd both known it was much more than that. It had meant almost everything to him.

  
But there was one thing that meant more. 

  
The material he was burning was more than just facts and figures. It was the sum of all his knowledge about Jim. All his strengths, all his weaknesses. Every detail about the sentinel, a key to what made him tick, a blueprint for what he could do -- and in the wrong hands...Blair would never forgive himself if that information were ever used to hurt Jim, to take away his freedom or use him. As his guide -- and as his friend -- destroying his research was a small price to pay to prevent that.

  
And deep down, Blair knew that if he hadn't been so careless with his dissertation, he wouldn't have to be doing this. So, despite his aching heart, he continued to toss items into the fireplace.  
Blair was lost in the heat and light and the crackling of the flames, watching a tape cassette shrivel and melt. He thought back to the nightmare from which Jim had wakened him. He'd been denying to faceless captors that Jim was really a sentinel -- but what he hadn't shared was that there had been a gun to his head. Blair had known that if he kept refusing to answer, he would have been killed.

  
But he was Jim's partner. If it came down to that, for real, he knew he'd give up his own life to protect Jim.

  
He shivered, not wanting to consider either possibility, and moved closer to the fire. He tossed in another cassette and deliberately shoved all thoughts out of his head. He was left with a deep, aching remorse, sorrow, and a hollow emptiness inside, like hunger, like grief.

  
Blair was so lost in his emotions that he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  
"Sorry," Jim said, awkwardly sitting down beside him on the floor.

  
"What are you doing out here?" Blair asked worriedly. "You shouldn't be walking on that leg."  
"I woke up," Jim shrugged. "I wondered where you were."

  
"Just out here." Blair tossed another tape into the fire.

  
Jim's hand returned to his shoulder and his voice came softly to Blair's ear. "I know how much all this means to you."

  
Blair felt the warmth of Jim's breath on his cheek, the strength of his presence. "I figured it might not be safe keeping this stuff around." The hollow feeling inside him deepened.

  
Jim's arms slid around him and he gratefully leaned against Jim's powerful chest, relishing the support. He couldn't suppress a sigh, his whole body warming and comforted.

  
He felt Jim's rough cheek against his face and the movement of his lips as he spoke. "It's going to be all right, Chief."

  
Jim's lips hovered at his temple, then pressed against Blair's sideburn in an unmistakable kiss that was as tender as Jim's words.

  
Blair gulped and the sound his throat made seemed unnaturally loud. He didn't know what to do; part of him wanted to turn in Jim's arms and see if he could read the other man's expression. _Did he mean to do that?_ Blair wondered, sure his heart rate was spiking. _Was it just comfort, or was it more? If I turn to face him, will he do it again, only this time on my lips?_

  
He drew in a breath he hoped would be calming, trying to consciously slow his pulse, not wanting his over-reaction to disturb the peace building between them. Jim's hands moved and for a second Blair thought he was going to let him go, but they only shifted to his shoulders where they began to gently massage his neck. Jim's lips were still close to his ear and as he languidly rubbed at Blair's shoulders, he inhaled deeply and nuzzled into Blair's curls.

  
Blair's heart rate went right back up again. "Jim?" he asked shakily. He turned, needing to look at him.

  
Jim's expression was open, shaded by reticence, but he met Blair's gaze with the same grave tenderness he'd shown in the hospital corridor when they'd first spoken after Blair's press conference.

  
"Blair," he whispered back, and Blair heard a world of meaning in the single syllable, a universe of feeling. He watched Jim's eyes shift down to focus on his mouth.

  
Blair found himself unable to breathe, unable to think, so he just waited. Jim seemed to move in slow motion, time stopping as he descended to Blair's mouth, finally bringing their lips together.  
_Oh, god._ The fit was perfect. The feeling was so profound Blair nearly gasped aloud. _Jim_ was kissing him. _Kissing_ him. The stasis that had temporarily held Blair shattered, and he came back to life under Jim's mouth, responding with his whole heart and soul, parting his lips under the gentle pressure of Jim's mouth.

  
The hollow place inside him gave a lurch, threatening to expand, but then Blair felt it crack and break and crumble into nothing. The sorrow was going to end, the hunger was going to be filled.   
_Jim..._

  
He moaned against Jim's mouth and wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders, pulling them closer together.

  
Jim groaned in response, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding into Blair's mouth, so hot and slick, and Blair met it with his own, taking his first taste of Jim, stars bursting behind his closed eyelids. His mind was spiraling out of control, amazement and reverence and need sapping his sanity. Jim's tongue was so... his mouth so wet... his kiss so commanding.

  
Blair never wanted it to stop. A moan came from deep in his throat and he felt like he was falling, but he didn't care. He was safe in Jim's arms and nothing mattered but that their kiss continue.

  
Jim was as focused when kissing as he was operating in full sentinel mode. Blair's mouth was thoroughly plundered, his body shifted and positioned for Jim's access, held possessively in hands that caressed him everywhere Jim could reach.

  
He never wanted Jim to stop kissing him, but just as Blair began to realize that they couldn't continue this way forever, that he wanted to move on, keep going, follow the kiss to its only possible conclusion....

  
Jim let him go. His lips pulled away, his arms pushed Blair back and he couldn't meet Blair's eyes. Jim just sat there, gaze averted, breathing out of control, but his expression was as shuttered as Blair had ever seen it.

  
"Jim?" Blair's voice was hoarse with both arousal and dismay.

  
"S-sorry," Jim mumbled, still not looking at Blair.

  
Blair reached for Jim's shoulder, just grazing it with his fingertips. "What? Why?" He let his hand settle then, squeezing. "I'm not sorry. Why should you be?"

  
"I... " Jim began, then swallowed as though the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat. "There's too much going on. We can't let our guard down. I can't." 

  
At least he wasn't apologizing because he thought Blair hadn't wanted to be kissed. But he still wasn't looking at him.

  
"Okay... " Blair said slowly. 

  
Jim finally turned and met Blair's gaze. "Things are already messed up enough here, Chief. I think throwing another curve at you isn't the right thing for me to do."

  
Blair swallowed, knowing what he said now was very important. "You don't think I can tell what's a curve and what... isn't?"

  
Jim's eyes were discouraged, resigned. "If something is meant to be, it doesn't happen when things are as messed up as they are right now. Not if... if they're going to last."

  
"Maybe it could be a way to fix what's messed up," Blair ventured. His thoughts were bouncing between the two ideas: _Jim doesn't think it's meant to be... Jim wants it to last..._ And he didn't know which one to focus on.

  
A sad smile ghosted across Jim's features. "I can't take that chance."

  
Blair's heart plummeted and he opened his mouth to protest, but Jim stopped him.

  
"I can't let you take it either. Not now." Jim's voice had that old familiar ring it used to have when he'd tell Blair to stay in the truck, firm, no-nonsense, an order to be obeyed whether it was accepted or not. Before Blair could say another word, Jim was pushing up from his sitting position, awkwardly getting to his feet.

  
Blair held back the impulse to lend Jim a helping hand. He stayed where he was, seated on the floor by the fireplace.

  
Jim looked down at him and although his expression was determinedly closed, Blair was sure he detected a wistful regret in his eyes. "I'm going up. You get some sleep, okay?"

  
Blair wanted to say something, wanted to protest, to deny Jim's fears, but the words stalled in his throat. Maybe Jim was right. Maybe what they needed to do was just ride things out the way they were. Maybe doing anything else wasn't such a good idea.

  
He'd already used his last supposedly good idea when he gave his press conference. 

  
He turned away, unable to watch Jim's slow progress up the stairs to his room or to protest that he needed to stay downstairs and rest his leg. Blair swiveled back to the fire, resuming what he'd been doing. He pulled a notebook out of the box and, ripping the spiral out of it first, tossed every page into the fire at once.

  
_I think you're wrong, Jim. I think us getting together would work. I think it's what could repair all the damage, fix what's been wrong between us. I think it is meant to be and that it would last..._   
He wondered what would happen if he ignored Jim's words, Jim's fears, and followed him up to his bedroom right now, if he just grabbed him and kissed him again and didn't let him stop.

  
He didn't get up though. _Jim's not the only one whose responses can be fear-based._

  
He watched the flames consume the notebook, hoping desperately that only his research was being destroyed by them, that their friendship wasn't also being consigned to the fire.  
  
*****  
  
"Yeah?" Blair's voice barely worked as he tried to answer the phone. He squinted in the light coming through the balcony window and realized he'd fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of the night while he'd watched his notes burn. He cleared his throat and tried again. "H'llo?"

  
"Sweetie, it's me." Naomi's voice came through the receiver. "Have you seen the news yet?"

  
"No," Blair croaked. He sat up stiffly, trying to focus his gaze on his watch. "What time is it?"

  
"Eight. I'm sorry to wake you," Naomi answered, "but I didn't want you to find out by seeing it on tv or in the paper."

  
Blair shoved his hair out of his eyes. "Find out what?"

  
"It's Sid, honey."

  
Blair couldn't place the tone of his mother's voice. She sounded sad, hurt or perhaps pleading.  
_Not him again_ , Blair thought in disgust. "What about him?"

  
"He's dead." Naomi bit out the words, her voice breaking. "I know he hurt you, sweetie, but he was my friend."

  
"Sid Graham's dead?" Blair still didn't feel completely awake. "How? When?"

  
"He was shot." Naomi paused to sniffle. "And the news said... well, they're speculating that he was murdered by someone who was... upset with him about a... book deal."

  
"What?" Now he was awake. 

  
"He was my friend, Blair," Naomi said again. "You wouldn't have... ?"

  
"Naomi! Are you trying to ask me if I had anything to do with Sid Graham's death?"

  
"No!" Naomi's answer came quickly but it still felt as though she'd driven a knife into Blair's back. "It's what the news is saying. They're implying... well, that you have a motive... And I just wanted to make sure... make sure you were home last night."

  
"I was home last night." Blair's voice was dull as he surveyed the ashes in the fireplace. "Jim was here with me. Don't worry, Naomi. I have an alibi for last night."

  
"Okay. Blair, I'm sorry. You know how the press is. They are worse even than the pigs these days. I just wanted to warn you."

  
"All right. I'm warned."

  
"Blair?" Jim's concerned voice sounded as sleep roughened as Blair's had when he'd answered the phone.

  
"I've gotta go. Bye." Abruptly, Blair hung up the phone and headed for Jim.

  
"That was Naomi," he told Jim, though he realized the other man probably already knew that. "She said something about Sid Graham being killed."

  
Jim looked concerned. "That wasn't all she said, was it?"

  
Blair shrugged. "Maybe I better turn on the news." He turned back to the living room and picked up the remote.

  
Sure enough, the Cascade morning news was on and there was a picture of Sid Graham being shown.

  
"This man was, just a few days ago, offering a young anthropologist millions of dollars to publish his book," proclaimed the anchor man. "Now he's lying in the morgue with a bullet to his head. Who killed publisher Sid Graham?"

  
Blair dropped onto the couch, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jim limped over and joined him, sitting down next to Blair.

  
The program went to commercial and Blair looked up at Jim. "This is ridiculous," Blair managed, his voice barely working. His mouth had dried out and he felt his heart beginning to pound.

  
The phone rang again and Blair flinched at the sound. He let Jim pick it up this time. 

  
"Ellison." The cop paused listening and he face took on a hard look. "He's right here. He was here all night."

  
"Who is it?" Blair whispered.

  
Jim put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Commissioner, I can vouch for Blair Sandburg and so can anyone else in Major Crimes. Of course, he's willing to talk to you."

  
"I am?" Blair said in a hushed voice.

  
"Ten o'clock? He'll be there."

  
Jim put the phone down and turned to him. "Well, that was the Commissioner. He wants to see you at ten."

  
"I gathered that." Blair ran his fingers through his tangled hair. "Oh, god." 

  
"Don't worry, Blair," Jim told him. "There is no way they're really going to suspect you."  
"Right. I only have a motive."

  
"Blair -- " Jim pointed toward the television. "Listen...."

  
The report was continuing. "Sid Graham was found shot to death in his New York hotel early this morning...."

  
"He was in New York," Blair sighed, inordinately relieved. He'd been concerned that for some reason Graham had still been in Cascade.

  
"So there's no way you could have been there and gotten back here," Jim agreed. 

  
"God, I hate the press," Blair fumed. "First they get hold of the dissertation and run wild with it, now this. They're going to be outside again when we leave to go see the Commissioner, too."

  
"We'll deal with it," Jim told him.

  
"Man, you shouldn't have to. This is just more of what you don't want or need, Jim. Maybe I should move out of here, at least temporarily."

  
"No way," Jim said, shaking his head. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. I don't care what they say in the press, it's too dangerous. You're not forgetting the bug I found, are you?"

  
"No." Blair rubbed at his eyes. "Jim, you don't think Graham's death could have anything to do with that, do you?"

  
Jim pressed his lips together. "Anything's possible. Whoever placed that bug could be capable of going to those lengths to get to us."

  
"Shit." Blair didn't know what else to say at the moment. It seemed like the blows just wouldn't stop coming at them. He glanced at Jim, who sat there in his boxers and undershirt, looking sleep-disheveled. "How's your knee this morning?"

  
"Better, actually." Jim touched the bandaged gingerly. "it's not aching so much. I barely noticed it when I came downstairs."

  
"Well, that's one good thing." Not only did Jim look disheveled, he also looked handsome, his face and body so appealing Blair suddenly felt uncomfortable so close to him, remembering how they'd kissed last night. "I think I'll put some coffee on," he said, getting up.

  
"Great, Chief." Before Blair could move away, Jim's hand caught at his wrist. "It'll be okay," he insisted when Blair turned back to meet his gaze. "It will."

  
Who could doubt those clear blue eyes, Blair decided. Jim looked so much more himself this morning, strong and assured, that he determined not to worry, not any more than he had to anyway.  
  
*****  
  
"They must have found the bug," Alex Eager pronounced, glaring at Nick Carpelli.

  
The other man shrugged. "What can I say? I hid it as well as I could."

  
"At least we know he's got some of the abilities we're looking for," a third man spoke up. He'd been sitting quietly while the others debated the situation. Like Patrick Flynn, he had a pronounced Irish accent and wore his blond hair long, dusting his collar. 

  
"Sean's got a point," Flynn agreed. "It's more proof."

  
"And the press reports got started early this morning," Sean O'Reilly continued. "It was a good idea to off Graham."

  
"Not that he didn't deserve it," smiled Eager. "I'll bet Sandburg is secretly glad the man is dead."

  
"Yeah," joked Carpelli. "We sure did him a favor." He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "I'll bet he thanks us."

  
"Sean, you and Patrick go set up on Prospect Street," Eager directed. "I want to know if they go anywhere this morning."

  
"Sure thing, boss," Flynn quipped, getting up and grabbing his jacket.

  
More slowly, the laconic O'Reilly followed. He disliked being ordered around by Eager and didn't mind showing how he felt.

  
"You do have everything set up in Canada, don't you, Sean?" Eager said as O'Reilly picked up the keys to his SUV.

  
"Of course." O'Reilly didn't elaborate. He donned his jacket and followed Patrick out the door, giving a sardonic salute in Yeager's direction in passing.  
  
*****  
  
"Detective Ellison." The greeting from Commissioner Nelson was clipped and formal. Jim and Blair had been ushered into his office and both stood before his desk neither feeling comfortable in his presence.

  
"Commissioner," Jim nodded. "This is Blair Sandburg."

  
Blair felt himself scrutinized by the man behind the huge oak desk. Nelson was a big man, with broad shoulders and graying temples. The lines in his face spoke of years on the job and his eyes were a penetrating blue that seemed to miss nothing in their appraisal.

  
"Hi," Blair nodded, trying a weak smile. "I understand your concern about what they're saying in the news... "

  
"I've been concerned about the news for the last several days," Nelson informed them. "I asked Captain Banks for copies of all the reports from your cases for the last couple of years, Detective."

  
"I know, sir," Jim responded. "But I can assure you, I've always followed procedure and I don't do anything that any other cop does in the performance of his duty."

  
"Captain Banks did say you always do your job. How's he doing, by the way?"

  
"He's getting better. I'll tell him you asked about him," Jim said.

  
"Now, Mr. Sandburg," Nelson went on, "what's this about the speculation that you might have had something to do with the death of this publisher, Sid Graham?"

  
Blair took a deep breath. "He was killed in New York, Commissioner. I've been in Cascade. I haven't left the city. Detective Ellison and I have been right here in town."

  
"Tell me what you know about Mr. Graham."

  
"He's an old friend of my mother's," Blair began, not reassured by the prospect of having to answer that question. "She sent him a copy of a paper I'd written and he wanted to publish it. I tried to turn down the offer several times because the paper wasn't something I was intending to publish. Apparently Mr. Graham thought I would finally agree and he leaked some of the contents of the paper to the press."

  
"So this Graham is the reason we've been hearing both your name and Detective Ellison's so much." Nelson's gaze traveled between Jim and Blair. "It might look to some that both of you had a motive to murder him."

  
"Commissioner, I swear, I only met the man in person one time. Sure, what he did caused us both some problems but I would never... " Nelson's cold eyes pinned Blair, making him feel like he'd done something wrong even though he knew he was innocent. And then Blair knew what to say. "Look, sir, I may be an academic fraud, but I'm not a killer. The only mistakes I made were with words, not bullets."

  
Blair felt Jim's hand touch the center of his back as he uttered the word 'fraud' and he silently thanked him for the support. Nelson's eyes took on an expression of distaste at Blair's admission. To the Commissioner, Blair figured, being a fraud was right up there with being a terrorist.

  
"What time was Graham killed?" Jim asked.

  
Nelson opened a folder on his desk. "I had the police report from New York faxed to me. It says he was found at approximately six a.m. Eastern time and that his time of death was probably three a.m."

  
"How could Blair have been in New York shooting someone and gotten back here by eight o'clock?" Jim asked reasonably, though Blair heard the tension in his voice.

  
"That would have been a little difficult," Nelson conceded. He closed the file and looked at both men again. "But I'd like both of you to stay nearby for the next few days. And when Captain Banks is able to go back to work, I still want to go over some of your records, Detective."

  
"Of course, sir." 

  
"You can go. Take care of that leg, Ellison." Nelson dismissed them with a curt nod and picked up his phone.

  
Once back on the street, Blair let out a sigh. "Man, I'm glad that's over."

  
Jim put a hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't exactly a thrill for me either."

  
"You think he believes me?" Blair looked up into his partner's eyes, still not completely convinced he wasn't actually under suspicion.

  
"He has to. He knows the timeline doesn't fit."

  
"Let's hope he doesn't decide I might have... I don't know... paid somebody to kill Sid for me." Blair shuddered at the idea.

  
"Stop worrying," Jim told him, squeezing his shoulder. "Come on, let's get some breakfast while we're out."

  
"Good idea," Blair agreed. "Suddenly, I'm starved."  
  
*****  
  
Jim knew Blair was still worried; he was worried too. Around the loft, Blair seemed depressed and unmotivated, though he put on a brave face when he went to visit Megan or Simon in the hospital. Jim wished there was something he could do for him, but he had backed himself into a corner.

  
After kissing Blair the other night, and then saying it wasn't the right time to start something like that, Jim was full of regret. Not for kissing Blair, but for confusing him even more than he was already. He should never have allowed himself to do such a thing and not just because of how it affected Blair. Now that Jim had permitted himself that one taste of the forbidden, he wanted it all the more.

  
Blair didn't know how torn up inside Jim was. He managed to act as though everything was all right, his long history of being able to repress what he couldn't deal with coming in handy. He smiled at his friend, talked, could even offer supportive touches, though they threatened to send him zoning. He knew what he was missing now and the sensory need made his control precarious. Just being close to Blair was bad enough. When he touched him, sensory spikes threw his hearing and sight off balance and it took monumental efforts to hide the fact from Blair.

  
To do so, he kept busy. He spent his time installing a security system in the loft and trying to find any leads as to who might have planted the bug. When he was unsuccessful, he began to think that perhaps it really had been brought in by some reporter who had some weird connections to have obtained such a sophisticated device. He didn't totally let down his guard though, knowing he would only feel completely safe when and if he learned who had actually planted it.

  
Blair went back and forth to the hospital, checking on Simon and Megan. Both of them were improving quickly and it was good to know that in a week or so they'd be able to go back to work.  
When Jim visited the hospital, he spoke to Simon about their meeting with the commissioner. Simon said he would do anything he could to help Blair prove his innocence and stated he thought it was ridiculous for the brass to even entertain the idea, when it was only something the media had started. Jim also found out that Simon would be permitted to leave the hospital by the end of the week and that he had made arrangements to have Blair take fire arms training at the Academy as soon as he'd like. Jim wanted to surprise him with the offer to join the force for real and become his partner, hoping that the show of support by his Major Crimes family would help ease his pain at giving up his anthropology career.

  
Though their friends had seemed a little cold toward Blair when they'd first seen them at the hospital when Megan had to be operated on the second time, the guys had apologized to Jim for acting as though they were upset with Blair that day. Still, they hadn't told Blair that themselves, Jim learned, mainly because Blair had managed to avoid everyone from the station as much as possible when he visited Megan and Simon.

  
Neither of them read a newspaper or turned on the news. The number of reporters dwindled when it became obvious that neither Jim nor Blair would give them a quote about Sid Graham's death and in a couple of days they found themselves coming and going without a group of microphone and camera wielding interlopers.  
  


*****  


  
  
"Sandburg does not appear to be moving out," Alex Yeager stated after listening to the report from Flynn and O'Reilly. 

  
"No," agreed O'Reilly, " but Graham's murder can still work for us."

  
"Enlighten me," urged Yeager.

  
"It will be a little more complicated, but the connections I have will help," Sean O'Reilly began, a pleased gleam in his hazel eyes. "We should be ready to move by the end of the week...."  


*****  


  
Friday morning came and Blair knew he had to go to the University to clean out his office. He'd been putting it off, trying not to think about what it meant. He had killed his career to save Jim's reputation but until he completely moved out of school, it wouldn't be real to him.

  
"So, what's your schedule for today?" Jim asked as he poured the last of his coffee into his mug.  
"I've got to go to the University," Blair sighed. "I was told I had to be out by today and I guess I should get it over with."

  
"You need some help packing?" 

  
"No." Blair shook his head. "Besides, I don't think you should go there with me. Someone might show up to ask more questions." He took his breakfast dishes to the sink and began to rinse them off. 

  
"What're you doing after that?" Jim asked, bringing his own dishes over to the sink.

  
"Why, are you writing a schedule for me?" Blair asked with a grin. "I think I might stop by the station, if you want to know. I spoke to Rhonda and she said there had been enough work done in the bull pen now that people were starting to come back to work. I don't want to wait much longer to get my stuff out of there or too many people will be around."

  
"You know you don't have to do that." Jim met his eyes, his expression grave.

  
"Jim, we've been all through this. If people are going to believe that I lied about the dissertation, I've got to go all the way. Plus, why would I still hang around as an observer now anyway?"

  
"I know. It just doesn't seem right." Jim frowned, looking away.

  
"It was my decision," Blair told him, not for the first time. "Look, just like there were consequences to my using your name in the draft of my dissertation, there are consequences to saying it was all a fraud. I can handle it."

  
Jim turned back, his eyes bright. "Blair... sometime when this is all over... maybe it would be good to get away from here for awhile. Just the two of us, for a vacation. I think we both could use it. And we can... talk."

  
It was the first time in days he had said anything even remotely about their relationship. Blair put his hand on Jim's arm. "Sure, man. That would be great."

  
Jim's arm twitched when Blair touched it, but he smiled at him, looking grateful and relieved at the same time, nearly beaming. He gazed into Blair's eyes for a long time, then swallowed audibly and glanced away.

  
"So, what time do you think you might be at the station?" he asked, reaching up to put their dishes in the cupboard.

  
Again Blair wondered why Jim was asking him so many details about his schedule for the day. "I don't know. About one o'clock, I guess." A thought occurred to him. "You're not still worrying about someone trying to get to us, are you? Have you found out anything you're not telling me, Jim?"

  
"No, relax," Jim said. "I haven't heard anything. Of course, not finding out anything is enough to keep me concerned. I would just like to know where you're going to be so if you don't show up somewhere, I'll know to send out a search party."

  
His voice sounded half teasing, Blair decided, so he let the subject drop. "I'll check in by phone if I'm going to be late anywhere, okay?"

  
"Good idea," Jim agreed.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey, Blair, what you up to, man?" Joel Taggert's voice startled him as he stood in the middle of the still unfinished bull pen.

  
"I'm taking a last look around," Blair said, turning toward his old friend. He felt uncomfortable facing Joel. He never wanted this man to believe he was a liar.

  
"Last look? You going somewhere?" Joel asked, apparently surprised.

  
"Well, yeah. I cleaned out my desk over at Rainier. I thought I'd do the same thing here." Blair took a breath, then went on. "I'm a fraud, man. I don't think Simon's going to want me hanging around." 

  
It didn't get any easier to say the word, he noticed. And he was still smarting from the experience of seeing Chancellor Edwards when he was packing up his office. Her glare said that she certainly didn't hold any respect for him.

  
He looked away from Joel's kind gaze, not wanting to see sympathy in them. He had to force himself not to break down and tell Taggert the truth, just to have someone else know he wasn't what he'd said he was in the press conference. But he couldn't do that.

  
"Sandburg, that is not your office!" 

  
Blair turned in surprise. He was shocked to see Simon in a wheelchair, being pushed into the bullpen by Rafe. The next person he saw was Henri, and a flush swept over him. He was embarrassed, confused. 

  
"Hey, Simon, they let you out?" he asked, trying to sound normal.

  
"Nah, they threw him out." 

  
That was Jim, walking with his cane and smiling broadly.

  
"They didn't throw me out. They said I was too cantankerous," Simon announced.

  
"You? No," Jim shot back, actually pinching Simon's cheek.

  
Blair then saw that not only was Megan in the group arriving, but so was Naomi. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

  
"I'd never miss this occasion, darling," she gushed.

  
Blair felt off balance, not understanding what occasion his mom could be talking about. Why the Major Crimes gang had decided to all show up now baffled him. Then he recalled Jim asked when he'd be at the station today. He smiled, still feeling a bit diffident around his friends. "That's great -- everybody's safe and out and happy."

  
Simon apparently could tell Blair felt uneasy and confused. "That's not exactly why we asked your mom here," he began, taking charge as usual. "I understand you gave up your job at the university and I saw you over there in my office. So we decided you needed to do something to keep you under control."

  
Before Blair could respond to that, Jim spoke up. "You're, uh, you're finished in this department, Chief..."

  
Blair flushed. "Yeah well, I-I sort of...well, I figured that."

  
" ...as an observer," Jim finished. He tossed something toward Blair.

  
Blair caught the object, noted it was a leather folder and opened it. "This is, uh... what is this? This is a detective badge. What's going on? I don't deserve this."

  
Simon grabbed it from him, snapping, "No, you don't." Blair was even more baffled until Simon continued. "At least not until you go to the Police Academy and complete firearms training. And if you do, Detective Ellison is looking for a permanent official partner."

  
It took Blair a moment to process Simon's words but when Jim moved to stand beside him, they began to sink in. 

  
So, everyone was there to see him, even his mother. Apparently they didn't hate him, or think him such a fraud that they didn't want him around. They were actually offering him a real place there.

  
"Uh... yeah?" Though the idea was overwhelming, Blair knew he should keep the mood light, so he quipped, "So, uh...does this mean a paycheck?"

  
Jim was quick with his own come back to that. "Can you say 'back rent'?" he teased, then asked, "Come on, what do you say?"

  
Megan chimed in. "Say something, Sandy."

  
Blair paused a moment, then he knew exactly what to say.

  
"I'm still not cutting my hair!" 

  
"Ho-ho-ho..." Jim sounded threatening.

  
"I'm not going to do it."

  
"That's what you think." With his cane, he caught Blair around the neck and pulled him over to him. He pulled Blair into a headlock and proceeded to give him a thorough noogie. "They're going to love you at the Academy." he hooted. "Captain, I'm going to make a little Blairskin rug for you here..."

  
"You're not going to scalp me! Forget it!" Blair yelped, amazed and laughing and touched. He heard everyone else's laughter but focused on Jim's touch, which was now more a gentle touseling than before, almost a fondling. He liked Jim's grip around his head and shoulders, and pretended it was an embrace. God, if Jim only knew he was thinking about him like that here, of all places and in front of all these people....

  
He finally pulled away and amid the laughter of their friends, met Jim's eyes. They were moist and soft with affection. He wrapped both arms around him then, and squeezed, just to let Jim know how he felt.

  
Jim flinched. Or so Blair thought, thinking of Jim's reaction earlier that morning when he put his hand on Jim's arm. He looked up and realized Jim wasn't trying to move away so he decided it wasn't exactly a flinch. It was Jim's senses.

  
"You okay?" he asked quietly.

  
Jim's jaw appeared clenched. "Sure. Uh... "

  
"Open the champagne, Naomi!" Simon commanded boisterously.

  
Out of the corner of his eye, Blair saw his mother brandishing a bottle.

  
They weren't alone but Blair had to say something to Jim. Instead of letting him go, he tightened his hold. "Jim, man... you planned this... I can't tell you what it means to me." He leaned up to whisper into Jim's ear. "What you mean to me."

  
Jim's lashes fluttered and his lips dropped open. He met Blair's eyes, desire obvious in his own.  
There was a loud 'pop' and everyone cheered the opening of the champagne. Jim pulled out of Blair's arms and drew a deep breath.

  
"Come on, you guys!" Rafe urged. "Have some bubbly!" He held out glasses for both of them.

  
Blair took one and Jim the other, though instead of sipping, Jim set his glass down on a desk and turned away. 

  
"I'll be right back," he muttered. "Need to use the men's room."

  
Blair resisted to urge to immediately follow him. He drank his champagne, basking in the warmth of his friends' smiles.  
  
*****   
  
Jim was dizzy, close to zoning, but managed to step over the debris in the hall as he made his way to the bathroom. He'd been dizzy from the shot of Demerol in the hospital, but this was different; dizzy in a good way. He felt euphoric, his spirits soaring as though freed from a long imprisonment. He'd held in his feelings for Blair so long, he felt suddenly liberated. Resisting acting on his feelings had become almost a reflex; overcoming that resistance had seemed insurmountable only moments ago. Teasing Blair wasn't anything new, nor was touching him in public. But when Blair had reached around to hug him back and looked into his eyes, Jim had known there was something more going on. Even though they'd only hugged, Jim had felt the way he had that night by the fireplace when he'd impulsively kissed Blair.

  
Jim shivered, his body reacting even now to the remembered stimulation of Blair's luscious lips. A part of Jim's mind tried to bring his old worries and concerns back into his consciousness but the rest of him was unable to think negatively at the moment. He wanted to think only of how Blair had felt in his arms, how soft and welcoming his lips had been.

  
He gazed at himself in the mirror, noting how flushed he appeared and turned on the faucet, rinsing his face with cold water.

  
He heard a light knock on the bathroom door as he wiped his hands on a towel. "Jim, can I come in?"

  
"Sure," he answered, his voice barely a croak from his suddenly dry throat. He looked up as Blair opened the door. Jim couldn't resist a smile as he saw his friend again. 

  
Blair stopped and looked at him, wearing an expression Jim couldn't quite define. "What?" he asked, wondering if he looked silly to Blair.

  
Blair shook his head, curls moving as he did so, catching light and making Jim's fingers ache to touch them. "I've never seen you look at me like that before," he said after a moment's hesitation.

  
Jim swallowed the lump in his throat, figuring honesty seemed to be working for him at the moment. "I've never let myself before this," he admitted, feeling a combination of embarrassment and a rush of desire so intense it threatened to make him zone. He glanced away, feeling giddy and half out of control, grabbing the sink like an anchor. He felt open, vulnerable, and he tried to push aside his fear that Blair might even now reject him. 

  
Blair was at his side in an instant. "It's okay, Jim. I like it."

  
The simple admission touched Jim, reassuring him more than anything else Blair could have said.   
"The other night, when I... kissed you. I wish I hadn't stopped," he admitted, his voice barely audible. He felt he had so much to say to Blair, so many things he wanted to explain, but he realized they were expected back at the party. 

  
Blair moved closer, his hand stroking the back of Jim's neck. "I know. I feel the same way." 

  
At the touch of the other man's fingers, and a sensory spike arced through his whole body. Almost reeling, he had to lean against the sink for support. "Oh, man... "

  
Blair, moving closer in concern, didn't help the situation any. Jim, unable to think clearly, reached for his partner. He needed to get his wildly reacting senses under some kind of control but he didn't want to put distance between himself and Blair. _Maybe if I could just get enough of him_ , he thought desperately. _That one kiss promised so much but it wasn't enough..._. He pulled Blair against him, his body soaking up the feel of him, realizing that he was hard and yearning and that Blair could easily feel his throbbing erection as he pressed their bodies tightly together.

  
Abashed, Jim released his hold on Blair's shoulders, glancing away from the intense blue of his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I guess we'd better get back.... "

  
He felt Blair's hand push his jacket open, then slide down to the tent in his pants. He bit his lip to cut off a groan at the intense stimulation of Blair cupping him through the fabric.

  
Blair leaned against him, whispering, "You can't go out there like this, man." Blair's hand tightened ever so slightly and Jim's sight and reason seemed to short out. It was true, he couldn't walk around the bullpen with a raging hard on, but he didn't know what else to do. They hadn't talked about their feelings, they'd only kissed the one time. And yet here Blair was, touching him so intimately, with a promise in his beautiful eyes. 

  
"Blair... " he managed, "I'm okay. It'll go away. Later we can...."

  
"Shhh," the seductive voice whispered in his ear again. "Your senses are all over the map. Let me take care of this for you."

  
_Yes, oh god, yes,_ his mind screamed out. "But...." 

  
Blair's fingers so quickly undid his belt and zipper and slipped inside Jim's underwear to claim his overheated flesh that Jim became incapable of speech, of thought, of resistance. Blair's hand felt made to hold his cock, his fingers closing around it in gentle precision, sending sharp ripples of ecstasy through Jim's entire body. He hovered on the brink of insanity, half zoned, half drunk, and as Blair's grip tightened and stroked him with complete ease and certainty, Jim felt his world begin to implode. Blair's touch was perfect, _perfect..._ but he couldn't hold on, couldn't outlast it, savor it, even comprehend it... all he could do was let it take him where Blair wanted him to go.   
A second, knowing stroke pulled him under, turned him upside down and inside out, and Jim heard a sharp gasp as his cock jerked in Blair's hand and he spilled himself into Blair's waiting palm. He came with an intensity he'd never felt in his life, almost blacking out, feeling like a wolf had gotten hold of him and was shaking him in its jaws -- where he would willingly die just for that instant of supreme surrender. He did black out then, the world leaving him for a moment or a year, as every nerve in his body short-circuited.

  
He opened his eyes to find the world had come back. Somehow he'd ended up sitting on the lid of the toilet and Blair was kneeling between his legs, holding Jim's face between his hands and talking to him urgently. His hearing gradually focused on the words and he realized Blair was asking him if he was all right. _How could I be wrong after something like that?_ he wanted to ask rhetorically. 

  
He started to lean forward, needing Blair's lips on his own, but Blair pulled back and touched Jim's cheek. Jim realized only then that his face was wet, but he literally couldn't concentrate well enough to figure out why until he saw Blair lift the fingertip he'd touched to his cheek up to his own lips. Jim's sight homed in on the bead of water there -- _not water, a tear?_ \-- and only then realized that tears had flooded out of him with his coming. He watched Blair's tongue peek out to connect with the tear beaded on his fingertip. The tear disappeared, lapped up by Blair's tongue and Jim thought he'd never seen anything so erotic.

  
That thought skittered away as full comprehension swept over Jim -- Blair had made him come with two or three strokes of his hand, come so intensely he'd cried and zoned out completely. That didn't seem very manly to Jim.

  
Blair's eyes held nothing but sweet acceptance, however, love and wonder seeming to shine out of them as he looked Jim over. He closed his eyes for a moment as though savoring the taste of Jim's teardrop, then he looked at him again.

  
"Nobody's ever wanted me this badly before," Blair whispered.

  
Jim tried to speak, found with surprise that his throat was raw. "I've wanted you forever," he said hoarsely, it dawning on him that the gasp he'd heard must have been his own. Blair must think he was a basket case. And god, what if they'd heard in the bullpen?

  
"You've got me," Blair promised, wrapping Jim in his arms and rubbing his face against Jim's wet cheek. "I'm here."

  
Jim's arms, trembling in reaction to his orgasm, came up to surround Blair, treasuring the chance to do so. His senses were online and in control with the relief Blair had unselfishly given him. Every time he thought he couldn't love Blair more, the feeling redoubled itself.

  
He recognized fresh desire hovering at the edge of his consciousness but it didn't feel overwhelming or threatening just now. He sighed, relaxing at last and easing his hold. Blair let him go and met his eyes.

  
"Back on an even keel?" he checked.

  
Jim nodded, trying to speak again. "I'll keep," he managed with a wry smile. "Go on, get out of here so I can pull myself together," he ordered gruffly. Blair chuckled and got up from his knees but before he could leave, Jim caught at his arm. "Uh... can I maybe... return the favor when we get back home?" he asked, suddenly feeling reticent. Here Jim was, a puddle of melted jello, and Blair seemed as calm as if they'd just done the breakfast dishes together. Hating his insecurity, Jim nevertheless couldn't help the desperate way he wanted Blair to want him.

  
Blair flashed him a blindingly leacherous grin, leaning up to kiss Jim quickly. "Don't worry, man. I'm hot for you, all right. I'm just not a sentinel who's been through what you have in the last few days." With a wink that promised further intimacy when they had the time, Blair turned and left. He should be embarrassed to be so completely transparent to Blair, but he wasn't. Feeling okay about his world for the first time in weeks, Jim hurried to make sure he was buckled and zipped. He washed his face of the tears and sweat, and, with a quick glance in the mirror to make sure he didn't look too disheveled, returned to the gathering in the bullpen.  
  
*****  
  
Nobody seemed to think anything about Jim and Blair disappearing for a few moments, probably thinking Blair wanted to say something privately to Jim about the offer to join the department. The party broke up after about a half hour later, everyone understanding that both Megan and Simon had just been released from the hospital and needed to go home to rest. Someone had suggested the rest of them go out to eat dinner, but Jim would much rather be alone with Blair than sit for another couple of hours in a public place with him. He begged off, saying his knee was hurting and the two of them headed home at last.

  
He felt like every nerve in his body was aroused and responding to Blair's presence beside him, his sight and smell and hearing going off the dial with regularity. Since Henri had given Jim a ride to the station, Blair drove them home in his car. The streetlights glaring through the windshield kept making him wince in reaction so he tried to keep his focus on Blair, remembering how his friend had looked a long time ago sitting between twin spinning columns of lighted mirrors as he urged Jim to 'zone out the light' and concentrate on the sound of the music that was playing. Jim had zoned out the light, but he'd focused more on Blair's face and voice than on the music that day. And he'd been watching Blair and listening to him ever since. 

  
Finally arriving at the loft, they hung up their jackets and, while Blair grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and made sandwiches, Jim set the new security system and started a fire. It was good to have something to do with his hands and besides, Jim felt the fire would set the appropriate tone for what he hoped would happen between them. 

  
Setting their plates and beers on the coffee table, Blair joined Jim on the couch. Blair downed his beer quickly, as though he needed the drink. "What an afternoon," he sighed, replacing the bottle on the coffee table.

  
"You can say that again." Jim was thinking more of what they'd done in the men's room than the gathering of their friends. "You uh... you want to talk?" he asked, sure that Blair had a lot on his mind, both the offer of a job on the force as well as their relationship. For something to do, he picked up his sandwich and took a bite.

  
"We could talk," Blair answered, looking sideways at Jim through a spill of curls. "But I know you. You don't like talking. You second guess yourself, you rationalize, you don't think we're on the same page."

  
"There've been a lot of times we weren't," Jim told him. "Especially lately."

  
"Not today, man." Blair stroked his shoulder. "You're giving me the thing I want most in the world," he whispered, sound of his voice making Jim shiver.

  
"A job on the police force?" Jim couldn't help asking, though the moment the words were out of his mouth he wanted to kick himself.

  
"You." Blair smiled, taking Jim's face between his hands. "You got that? You're what I want, Jim. You're what I need."

  
It was almost impossible to believe. Here he was, flawed, a freak of nature, argumentative to a fault, with a horrible track record in the relationship department, and yet Blair said he wanted him, needed him. Jim took in the rapt expression, the beautiful eyes so full of love, and he realized that all of that was, magically, directed at him. He was acting like a fool. He swallowed the bite of sandwich he'd taken and put the plate on the table.

  
"I want you, too," he breathed, realizing the world wouldn't break apart if he admitted his feelings. "I need you. I asked you to be my partner today, but I don't mean just as a cop."  
His partner moved toward him, smiling eagerly.

  
Jim opened his arms and Blair slid into his embrace. Jim wrapped his arms around Blair, sighing at the warmth of him, the feel of his compact body sending sparks of anticipatory pleasure straight to his groin. Emboldened, Jim kissed the side of Blair's neck, gently at first, then as Blair tilted his head inviting easier access, Jim opened his lips and caressed the soft skin lightly with his tongue.

  
"Mmm... Jim, that feels good," Blair sighed, his voice pitched for sentinel ears.

  
His hunger finally broke through the reigns he'd been keeping on his feelings. Jim nipped at the tender flesh of Blair's throat, sucking delicately, not quite hard enough to leave a mark. Blair shivered in his arms.

  
Jim reached up to move the collar of Blair's blue shirt out of his way, pulling it aside so he could get at the flesh he yearned for. Beneath his collar, Blair's skin was warm and inviting, tasting of sandalwood and chamomile from his favorite soap, slightly salty from sweat. The identity of the skin he was nibbling kept whispering through Jim's mind: _Blair... Blair... Blair...._ He couldn't stop, couldn't get enough. Blair's taste was as soothing as comfort food, arousing as an aphrodisiac. Distantly aware of his heart pounding rapidly, Jim tugged open the buttons on Blair's shirt, happy to find him for once without multiple layers to get in his way. 

  
When the shirt was unbuttoned, he pushed it off Blair's left shoulder, nuzzling his way down to Blair's collarbone, delighting in the softness of the dark hair that tickled his lips and nose. He licked his way to the hollow of Blair's throat, pausing to suck at that more delicate skin gently, aware of Blair's quickening pulse.

  
He lifted his head to find Blair's eyes on him, hot and hungry. The naked desire flashing in Blair's eyes sent Jim's mind reeling with the possibilities. His gaze dropped to Blair's mouth, open and moist and begging to be kissed. Jim complied, diving for Blair's mouth with barely controlled lust. Blair's mouth was a feast to a sensation starved sentinel, plush lips that welcomed him, wet heat that conducted electric sparks through Jim's body, dancing tongue and a taste it would take Jim years to categorize.

  
He felt hands roving over his back and sides, slipping under his sweater and undershirt to get at his bare skin. Blair's touch sent his senses reeling out of control and Jim struggled against the threatening zone out, not wanting to get lost again the way he had when Blair had brought him off in the bathroom. He didn't want to take now, he wanted to give. He wanted to make love to Blair, to show him with lips and tongue and hands and body how completely he was loved, how desperately he was adored. 

  
Before he could act on that thought, Blair's hands gripped the hem of his sweater and pulled it, along with his undershirt, up over his head and off, breaking the kiss to get rid of the garments. Every inch of bare skin on Jim's body woke instantly to wild arousal and he greedily pulled Blair back into his arms, tight against his chest, his mouth finding Blair's kiss-swollen lips again. He gripped two handfuls of Blair's hair, savoring the feel of the silky curls as he kissed like a drowning man. Blair's response was unconditional, feeding his excitement. Jim let go of the curls he'd been clasping and his hands scrambled to get rid of the impediment of Blair's shirt. Fumbling and clumsy with haste, he couldn't coordinate the action and he distantly heard Blair's light chuckle as he broke the kiss. He released him, half in confusion, coherent thought fogged by desire, and watched as Blair finished unbuttoning his own shirt and letting it fall from his shoulders, revealing his beautiful body without once taking his eyes from Jim's.

  
For an instant, it was all Jim could do to keep from launching himself toward Blair to maul him with eager mouth and hands. But he resisted that temptation, knowing that if he did so, his heightened arousal would go off the scale and he'd lose it right here and now before they got any more of their clothes off. Instead, aware of his heart pounding so hard he felt faint, Jim lifted one hand to reach for Blair, his fingertips brushing the fine, dark hair that adorned Blair's chest. The rough silk of Blair's chest hair was almost enough by itself to set Jim off and he shuddered, desperate to maintain control and not embarrass himself. His fingers traced delicately across Blair's lightly furred collar bone, dipping into the center of his chest where the hair was more dense, warm with Blair's body heat, and then moving right, toward a peaked nipple. As his fingers brushed the hardened pink-brown nub of flesh, Blair hissed in a breath and his eyes sank closed.  
Blair's reaction echoed in Jim's body and his cock, fully hard and aching, jerked in the confines of his pants. Jim instantly dropped his hand from Blair's chest and closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to ward off his threatening orgasm.

  
"Jim? What's the matter?" Blair's voice came at him, sounding muffled, like Jim was underwater.   
He choked down his embarrassment, glancing down where he was faced with the bulge in his jeans. "I almost came," he grated out. "Sorry.... "

  
"What's there to be sorry about?" Blair asked gently. "It blows me away to know you react that strongly to me, man."

  
Jim lifted his eyes to Blair's face. "I don't want to ruin this," he managed. "I don't want to lose it right away without making you feel good first." He swallowed the lump that had developed in his throat. "I feel like I'm about thirteen. My senses are off the scale again... I don't want them to mess up what we could have here. Every little thing seems so magnified. I've never had this trouble with them before," he concluded sheepishly.

  
"Before?" Blair asked. "You mean, in bed?"

  
Jim nodded, wanting desperately to touch Blair's chest again but not trusting himself just yet.  
"You've never lost control with someone before?" Blair asked for clarification and Jim shrugged; Blair going into intellectual mode was actually helping to calm his over-eager reactions. "It's just with me?" Blair sounded incredulous. "That's amazing, man."

  
Jim swallowed. "Before, my senses were an added bonus, you know, but they didn't make me finish before the first act even got started. But now, with you, I'm out of control... " He had to look away, voicing his real concern. "If I can't get hold of this, so to speak, this isn't gonna work so well for us."

  
"Jim... " The fondness in Blair's voice soothed him. "This isn't something to worry about. It's all new between us. And I know I feel way more for you than I've ever felt for anybody else -- I'm kinda nervous myself. Plus, we've both been through a pretty emotional time these last few days. That always does stuff to your senses. We can make it work." Jim felt a hand on his cheek, coaxing him to meet Blair's gaze. "I'll help you."

  
How many times had he insisted to Blair, half joking, half in a desperate need to keep some aspect of his life private, that his sex life as a sentinel was out of bounds? He let the shutters he'd tried to keep between them fall away now, as always opening up to Blair more than he ever could to anyone else. "What do you suggest then?" 

  
Blair glanced at the obvious hard-on, his gaze down there making Jim tremble. "How about I help you like I did this afternoon? Just to take the edge off, then we can take our time and you'll be more in control. Unless," he hesitated, seeming to suppress a grin, "you're gonna want to go right to sleep on me afterwards."

  
"No," Jim rushed to assure him. He wanted to make love all night. "But... I want to make you feel good. I don't want this to be one sided."

  
Blair stroked Jim's cheek. "It won't be, man. You can do anything you want to me, touch me, kiss me, suck me... I won't complain." His salacious grin and the hot words were driving Jim crazy.  
"Keep talking like that and I'll lose it right now," he warned.

  
"Okay," Blair agreed, still smiling. "Lie back and I'll take care of you."

  
Jim started to recline, then sat back up again. "Wait -- what if...? This afternoon, I totally zoned out after. I don't want that to happen."

  
"Good point," Blair said. He paused to consider a moment. "Okay, when I touch you, I want you to watch me. Use your sense of sight to keep from zoning out on touch, okay?"

  
Jim rolled his eyes. "Watching your hand on me is going to keep me from zoning? Yeah, right."

  
"You can do it, man," Blair assured. "Besides, if you zone, I'll still be here when you come out of it. I'm not going anywhere and this isn't a contest to see who's got the most staying power or something. Whenever you're ready, I'm all yours."

  
"Okay." With a sigh, Jim leaned back, feeling foolish and awkward. But Blair's patience was, as always, the rock on which he could lean and find his strength.

  
"That's it," Blair crooned, his voice soothing. "It's gonna be okay. It's just you and me... making our own way, Jim, like always. You love me so much you almost came just from touching me? Do you know what that does to me? Having my sentinel want me that badly?" He leaned over Jim, devouring him with his gaze. "Look at you, spread out here like this. Your body is so perfect, so hard." He ran a fingertip down Jim's biceps lightly and Jim shuddered in reaction. "Like iron. You're the most gorgeous man I've ever seen."

  
"Shut up," Jim warned gruffly.

  
Blair ignored him, his voice dropping to a deeper register that made Jim tremble more. "And your senses... you know how much I love them? Not just to study, not just for the dissertation. Because they're part of you, they make you who you are, they make you strong, they make you the best cop in Cascade, the most special man on earth. They make you vulnerable and yet you trust me. Do you know how that makes me feel? I was so scared I was going to lose your trust forever."

  
Hanging on Blair's every word, almost in a trance, Jim whispered, "I trust you, Blair. I love you."  
Blair's smile was beautiful. "I love you too." Moving slowly, he reached down to unfasten Jim's jeans, his fingers expertly unsnapping and unzipping him. Then Blair drew the jeans down Jim's long legs, pulling off his shoes and socks when he got to his feet and dumped the tangled pile on the floor. Mesmerized, Jim stared at his partner's face as he worked.

  
"Watch my hands, Jim," Blair directed. 

  
Reluctantly, Jim directed his gaze downward. Blair reached inside his boxers and freed his aching cock, his hand warm and proprietary. Jim surged into his palm, reveling in the feel and fit of Blair's fingers around him. "Oh god..." he panted.

  
"Just watch, Jim," Blair whispered. "I'm going to stroke you." The fingers tightened deliciously, stroking him from root to tip and Jim's head fell back against the arm of the couch, his senses reeling. He kept from coming only by biting hard on his lower lip.

  
"Easy," Blair warned. "Easy... you can do this, man. Just dial your sense of touch down a little bit. And keep watching me. Focus on your sight."

  
Jim strained to look down again, his eyes widening at the incredible sight of Blair's fine-boned hand caressing his shaft. He'd always thought how handsome Blair's hands were and to see that part of him touched and held by those hands was almost too much.

  
"What do you see, Jim?" Blair's husky voice called him back from the brink.

  
"Your hand wrapped around me," Jim managed. "It's beautiful. Your fingers are tan and my cock is flushed red.... " He drew in a breath. "Feels like you own me, holding me like that. Your hand is so sure, so strong."

  
"You want me to pump you again?"

  
Breathless, Jim nodded.

  
"Okay, hold on," Blair warned. He slid his hand down to the base of Jim's cock, then stroked up in one long motion, finishing by swirling his thumb over the head. "What do you see now?"

  
"Stars," Jim gasped, then forcibly regained control. He blinked perspiration from his eyes and kept his sight focused. "I'm wet. I can see it, glistening where you rubbed... oh god... I can see it on your fingers... I... can see... your fingerprints... " He felt the world narrowing down as his focal point intensified and consciousness began to slip away.

  
"Jim! Jim, hang on there... don't go too high on me," Blair warned. "I want you to watch but I want you to feel too, okay? Feel this, Jim." And again he caressed Jim's throbbing cock, bringing him right to the edge.

  
"Blair, please... " Jim begged. He didn't think his heart could stand much more.

  
"God, you're hard, Jim," Blair whispered, sounding not very much in control himself. "Harder than your biceps...harder than anything... " Blair pumped him a fourth and fifth time, each stroke sweeter than the last, each dragging Jim into unbearable pleasure. Jim held his breath, desperate to last, desperate to come. He nearly passed out when Blair bent over him, opening his mouth.  
The velvety heat of Blair's tongue swirled over the tip of Jim's cock in one sensual lick before the generous lips fitted themselves around him, tightening, ready to suck. Sight and touch seemed to collide in Jim's brain, exploding into surreality that echoed throughout his frame.

  
"BLAIR!" The word was jolted out of Jim, almost a scream, as pleasure shorted out every nerve in his body.

  
When he next heard Blair's voice it sounded like it was emanating from the end of a long tunnel. He opened his eyes, half expecting darkness to greet him, and found they were still on the couch in the living room, the fire crackling, sending gold and red highlights over Blair's face and hair as he wiped semen off Jim's belly. Jim felt good, very very good. 

  
"I think I zoned again," he said, not surprised that his voice was whisper-weak. He felt the fabric of the couch under his ass and realized that Blair had finished undressing him.

  
Blair met his eyes, using Jim's boxers to wipe at his lips. _Wiping my come off his face... geezus..._. "A little bit," he smiled at Jim as though there was nothing wrong with his zoning. "You came right back this time. So we're getting somewhere."

  
"Oh yeah," Jim told him, reaching to run his fingers through the reddish highlights in Blair's curls. "We're getting somewhere all right."

  
Blair's expression changed to anticipation. "You don't feel like falling asleep, I take it." 

  
"Not at all. How about I start returning the favors you've extended to me today, partner?"

  
Without waiting for an answer, he took command of Blair, pressing him backwards to recline on the couch. Jim covered him with his body, reveling in the contact, the feel of Blair's stiff erection against his stomach.

  
Jim's body reacted to that as though he hadn't just come two minutes ago. In an instant, he was ragingly hard again.

  
Blair obviously felt it too. "Oh, man... " he moaned, sounding impressed as he bucked up against Jim's body, rubbing his own crotch against Jim's hardness.

  
"Let's get you out of those pants," Jim murmured, taking a kiss and then leaning back to start undoing Blair's jeans. His knee protested the position however.

  
"What's wrong?" Blair asked, noting Jim's grimace.

  
He shifted, trying to ease the pressure on his wound. "Nothing. Just my knee...."

  
"Maybe we should do this someplace other than the couch," Blair suggested. "You know, where there's more room?"

  
Jim smiled. "Good point. Upstairs?"

  
Blair looked up at him, his eyes wanton and shy at the same time. "I thought you'd never ask."

  
Jim responded with a kiss, making it last as he explored Blair's mouth with his tongue, then pulled back. "Let's go up then." The thought of making love to Blair in his bed was like a dream come true, one he'd never realized he'd had. He climbed off the couch and reached out a hand to help Blair to stand. Gaining his feet, Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's neck, leaning in close and nuzzling his throat.

  
"I want you to make love to me, Jim," Blair whispered.

  
Shivering at the hungry tone in Blair's voice, Jim whispered back, "I'll make love to you, give you everything you want, everything you need."

  
"I just need you." The statement was punctuated with a kiss to Jim's throat.

  
"I'm yours." Jim hugged him tight then released him, taking Blair's hand in his own as he headed for the stairs.

  
Together, they ascended to the loft bedroom. Jim, his knee still not quite free of pain, put his arm across Blair's shoulders. Blair wrapped his arm around Jim's waist and the warmth of their embrace flowed through Jim's body, softening his arousal with loving tenderness. Blair was so precious to him, and he knew he'd never shown him that. He needed Blair, he cherished him, and Jim wanted so badly to give him all the love he had finally recognized.

  
They got to the top of the stairs and Jim stopped, pulling Blair into his arms. He looked down at the upturned face, the strong emotions surging through him heightening his sense of sight, intensifying everything he saw -- and what he saw was Blair, in crystal clarity, everything else receding to vague unimportance. Blair's face had captivated Jim for as long as he could remember: the high cheekbones, the intense deep blue of his eyes that seemed capable of looking straight into Jim's heart, the masculine angle of jaw, the heavy stubble that Jim's fingertips ached to caress, the magnificent mass of deep brown curls with their chestnut highlights, ever moving, ever drawing Jim's fascinated gaze and the lips... tantalizing lush pads of deep rose, soft as flower petals, yet as Jim was only beginning to learn, possessing the ability to command or to yield, to feed from Jim's mouth, hungry for the passion he offered, and to equally feed Jim's soul with the perfection of his response.

  
Nearly zoning on the sight of those lips, Jim took Blair's face between his hands and moved in to kiss them, hesitating as he savored the anticipation.

  
"I'll never kiss anyone else."

  
Blair's lips opened, breathed in a gasp, and Jim realized only then that he had spoken aloud.  
"I mean that, Blair," he said, determined to face his feelings now that he had accepted them. "I don't want anyone else. I'll never love anyone else."

  
"Jim..." The wonderful lips trembled under Jim's gaze and a spear of worry flew into his mind -- he was moving too fast; maybe Blair didn't want the exclusivity Jim longed for -- that spear losing velocity only when Blair added, "hearing you say that... it means so much to me, man. You have so much love to give, and to hear you say it's all directed at me, that just blows me away."  
Jim traced Blair's full lower lip with a delicate finger. "Knowing you want my love is what blows me away, Chief." He swallowed down the thought that his love hadn't always been considered so valuable a commodity.

  
Blair cupped his hand against Jim's cheek, the tender touch making Jim's knees go weak. "I want it," he affirmed. "I've wanted it forever. I've watched so many women turn it down, none of them knowing what they were giving up."

  
Jim glanced away, old pain and new sensibility embarrassing him at Blair's frank words. He must have seemed pretty stupid to Blair, acting the way he had over some of the women he thought he'd thought had loved him.

  
Blair stroked Jim's cheek comfortingly. "I saw you get hurt over and over again and all I wanted to do was to take that hurt away for you. But I didn't really know how, didn't know if you'd let me. Now that we're together, I promise to love you every day of my life, so much that maybe it'll make you forget all the hurt you've had to go through in the past."

  
Jim's throat tightened at the sincere passion of Blair's declaration. He couldn't speak, only managing a strangled sound of reaction. He'd never been loved unselfishly, never been loved for who he was inside. On a very basic level, he had never felt worthy of that kind of love. To be offered it now, from Blair, was almost more than he could comprehend.

  
Blair smiled up at him, then leaned up, kissing Jim softly, melding their lips with a careful precision that told Jim he understood. He kissed Jim like he was the most important person on the face of the earth, the initial softness of the kiss deepening gradually, sealing the vows they had made to each other. Blair brought his other hand up to frame Jim's face, his fingertips stroking through Jim's sideburns. The touch sent ripples of arousal surging through the Sentinel's body and he bent closer to Blair, holding him close, kissing him back with all the love he possessed.

  
Blair's tongue sought entry to Jim's mouth and he opened his lips, reveling in the hungry invasion. Their gentle kiss turned into open-mouthed, passionate sucking, wet slurping sounds filling the bedroom, bodies pressing close as Jim and Blair tried to devour each other.

  
Jim finally remembered that downstairs, he'd been about to unfasten Blair's pants. He brought his hands up between them, fumbling with the belt and zipper, fingers desperate to get at bare skin. Blair started trembling in his arms and broke the kiss, gasping for air.

  
Jim smiled down at him, stroking the hair back from his forehead, pressing one gentle kiss there and then urging Blair over to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand and pushed Blair down on the blue sheets with the other, then reclined next to him as he finished undoing his jeans. Blair, his head on Jim's pile of pillows, watched the progress, his lower lip caught by his teeth. He sighed when Jim's fingers captured his cock and withdrew it from the confines of his jeans and underwear.

  
Jim thought back to the other night, when he'd stood in Blair's room, watching him sleep and wanting to go to his bed, to bend over him and suck his cock. He wanted to worship Blair's body, to make him feel as incredible as Jim felt just being in his arms, to make him come as hard as Blair had made him, but he wanted to take his time, give Blair more pleasure than he could stand, find all the places that Blair liked to be touched, to be kissed.

  
Jim held Blair's heavy, stiff cock in his hand, marveling at the idea of caressing another man's dick for the first time in his life. He'd thought about touching a man from time to time, always forcing the notion aside, never allowing his curiosity to grow into anything real until he'd met Blair. He'd wondered what it would be like to be intimate with Blair, but he'd repressed the impulse, locking it away where he kept other secrets of his heart that would never be realized. Now it seemed possible that he could allow those secrets out of hiding at last.

  
He bent his head, inhaling the scent of Blair's body, the heady, masculine musk igniting primal urges that must have existed in Jim forever. Needing to consider no further, he opened his mouth and descended on Blair's cock, the taste and texture filling his senses, instinct leading him to pull the whole of it deep into his throat, loving Blair's responsive thrust upward that forced Jim to take even more of it. He gripped Blair's hips and sucked hungrily, Blair's moans teaching him how best to please his young partner.

  
Remembering suddenly that he'd wanted to make this last for Blair, Jim drew off the wet, straining erection, easing him back from the brink with loving licks and gentle strokes.  
"Jim.... " Blair's voice begged, questioning the change in tactics, and Jim looked up, smiling at the passion-flushed face.

  
"Easy," Jim soothed, "I want to take my time." He tugged Blair's jeans down, his eyes feasting on the shape of his legs, his hands following the revealed skin with tender touches.  
"You want to torture me," Blair contradicted. 

  
Jim just grinned as he worked off Blair's shoes and socks so he could remove his pants, dropping them to the floor and immediately turning his attention to the now naked man in his bed. He reclined on his side so that his weight was off his knee and, starting at Blair's throat, ran his fingertips slowly down his chest. This time, he didn't start to zone on the feel of Blair's body. Relieved, Jim leaned closer to him, using his tongue to learn the taste and texture of Blair's flesh. The dark hairs were wiry and warm, catching at Jim's tongue, delighting his senses. He nosed through the chest hair to find the stiff little bud of flesh that was Blair's right nipple, fastening his mouth on it, licking and sucking as Blair writhed beneath him. Jim eased off, watching the rise and fall of Blair's chest as he panted for breath, his sight intensifying until he swore he could see excitedly twitching nerve endings. 

  
Keeping his sight dialed up, he proceeded down Blair's body, using his fingertips and tongue to seek out those places where the nerves were the most dense, the most in need of his arousing touches. Blair's belly button, a gentle indentation on his flat stomach, was one of those places. Jim caressed it with his tongue, noting the muscles tremble as he nuzzled it.

  
"Jim..." Blair gasped, his hand coming to rest on Jim's head, his fingers tightening in his hair. "Wh-what are you doing?"

  
"I'm making love to you," Jim responded, sucking at the goose-dimpled skin of Blair's lower ribs. "You said you wanted me to kiss you and suck you." He wanted to make this good for Blair, show him all the love that had been locked secretly in his heart. 

  
"Oh yeah..." Blair breathed. "I did, didn't I?" He sounded a bit giddy.

  
Jim ran light fingertips up to Blair's left nipple, tweaking it gently as he moved up to suck at the right one again. Blair arched up against Jim's mouth.

  
"Oh god, man... that's so good...."

  
Jim smiled against the warm flesh he was nibbling. He agreed; Blair tasted wonderful to him. He moved on, tongue gliding up toward Blair's underarm area, his nose seeking the stronger scent of his body. He inhaled deeply, loving the complex fragrance that he'd be able to identify anywhere, then nuzzled down along the soft skin of Blair's arm to the inner elbow, where he sucked lazily at the tender flesh, noting Blair sighing in reaction.

  
He worked his way down Blair's arm, listening to the soft gasps and half-giggles his partner kept uttering as he licked and nipped along, finally coming to Blair's palm, where he pressed loving kisses. Then he sucked each finger into his mouth in turn, until Blair was moaning and quaking uncontrollably.

  
"Jim, if you don't suck my dick again soon, I'm gonna die," Blair begged.

  
Jim chuckled and moved between Blair's legs, but instead of going back to his cock, he nipped tenderly at the crease where his thigh met his groin, then lifted Blair's right leg and licked the back of his knee. "Doesn't this feel good?" he asked softly. 

  
"Y-yeah," Blair managed to answer. "Feels great."

  
Jim smiled and rolled his partner over, nibbling up the back of his legs, first the right, then the left. Blair gasped and arched his back, his hips swiveling on the bed so he could grind his crotch into the sheets. Jim eyed Blair's well-rounded butt, taking his first long look at it, loving the curves, caressing it with his hands, using his thumbs to part the tight cheeks.

  
Jim gasped, seeing the dark center of his love there, a place he'd never let himself think about before. He hesitated, then with exquisite care, licked softly at the opening, closing his eyes as he savored the heady taste, the skin so delicate and hot he thought he'd faint if he did anything more with it.

  
" _Jim..._ " Blair moaned," what...?"

  
Attempting to steady his nerves, Jim eased Blair to his back again only to be faced with his rampant cock. Jim went down on him at once, reveling in having the thick flesh deep in his throat. As Blair bucked up into his mouth, Jim slid one hand underneath him, letting his middle finger delve into his ass, stroking across the puckered opening, then slipping into Blair's sensitive passage. Blair went wild, yelling out his pleasure, and before Jim knew what was happening, hot fluid was pumping into his throat. Jim greedily swallowed, focusing on the taste of Blair's essence. As he attempted to comprehend the complex flavor, the rest of his senses blanked out.  
  
*****  
  
  
Blair came to earth after a shattering climax, feeling replete and so loved he wanted to float on that feeling forever.

  
"Jim, that was... that was just.... " He couldn't really even form words, he was so wiped out.   
Jim didn't answer. Blair lifted a hand, his arm trembling from his orgasm, to stroke Jim's head. 

  
"Jim.... "

  
Still no answer. And Jim wasn't moving. 

  
Blair levered himself up on his elbows to look down. Jim lay sprawled between his legs, his head pillowed on Blair's thigh. His eyes were closed, his expression distant.

  
"Oh, shit," Blair muttered, his afterglow fading as he realized Jim must have zoned out again. He shifted position, reaching to pull Jim up.

  
"Jim... " he whispered, getting a little worried. He glanced down Jim's body and noted the stiff erection Jim had. He hadn't been overcome by his own reactions, then, Blair realized. It must have been something else. Blair felt himself flush as he realized his own orgasm must have been the cause. Taste...the taste of his own semen must have been what Jim had focused on. Half embarrassed -- but only half -- Blair reacted to that thought all the way down to his toes, the idea almost enough to get him hard again already. 

  
"Come on, man," he urged, tugging Jim up into his arms. He stroked his face. "Jim... can you hear me? You're focused on taste, I think. Come on, wake up. Hear me and see me... " He continued speaking softly but insistently, but Jim remained unresponsive.

  
Blair glanced down the Sentinel's body again, his cut, buff chest so beautiful to Blair he could hardly keep his hands off it even now with Jim zoned. Still, if it was taste the man had zoned on, perhaps it would take touch to bring him out of it.

  
Jim's cock was dark red and marble hard. Gulping, Blair touched it, the heavy weight of it filling his hand, the contrast of soft, tender skin over the blood-filled hardness amazing. He eased Jim over onto his back and snuggled next to him, one hand rubbing across his chest, thumb flicking at each of Jim's erect nipples in turn as he pumped the stiff cock in his other hand.

  
Jim's body reacted, even if his mind wasn't with the program yet, jerking at the stimulation. Blair called his name again, tightening his grip on the cock, stroking a little harder. He leaned over Jim's chest, softly biting at his left nipple, wondering just how much stimulation it was going to take to pull Jim out of the zone.

  
"Hey, Jim," Blair murmured against a rounded pectoral, "I know you want to feel this to the max. You can't do that if you don't come out of it. Come on back, baby, feel what I'm doing to you..." He sucked hard on the nipple, all the while pumping Jim's cock, half weirded out by doing this to Jim while he was in this condition, yet aroused by the sight of him spread out and vulnerable to anything Blair might want to do to him.

  
_What would it be like for Jim? To be pulled out of a zone by an orgasm?_ Blair ignored the blush he felt creeping over his face as he licked his way down Jim's hard body, nipping wantonly, feeling shivers following in his wake, noting Jim's penis was now leaking pre-come over his hand. Blair leaned over his groin, taking Jim's dick in his mouth, figuring he wasn't going to come as quickly as he had the last time. He'd only had to barely mouth Jim's cock downstairs. "I'm sucking you off for real this time, Jim," Blair whispered, pausing before he started in earnest. "Feel my mouth on you...feel my tongue..." He licked the whole length, leaving the cock gleaming wet. 

  
"Feel my throat muscles, man." Blair took a deep breath and sucked Jim in, feeling the head hit the back of his throat. It was uncomfortable, but that in itself turned him on. Blair was out of practice doing his kind of thing and he'd never done it that many times in the first place. Jim had amazed him, sucking him without hesitation, instinctively doing it so good for Blair...and that finger he'd slid in... That had sent Blair to outer space.

  
"You going to let me try that on you, baby?" he asked rhetorically, his free hand shoving at Jim's legs to get them farther apart. He slipped his hand between Jim's legs, brushing his tensed balls on the way by, then searching further back. Heat, tightness.... _There...._ He circled the place he'd found, feeling it relax as he rubbed it.

  
Jim's body thrashed under him, but Blair didn't let up, still sucking passionately, pushing at the moist, hidden place, feeling his finger slide into Jim's body just a little way.

  
Jim's hand suddenly moved, clamping on Blair's head, fingers tight in his hair, but Blair couldn't spare a glance to determine if he was actually back with him. Blair circled his finger inside Jim and his hips bucked up, then pushed down, forcing Blair's finger deeper. Blair pushed and stroked with his finger, sucked and pumped with his mouth and hand, and then he heard Jim yelling again, his whole body shuddering in approaching climax. Jim's fluid spilled into Blair's mouth, his ass muscles tightening down on his finger, sweat breaking out on his skin. Blair hung on through the earthquake, amazed at how hard Jim was coming for him. Their love was amazing, he marveled, so good, so right, so powerful, so perfect. He felt tears spring to his eyes as he swallowed Jim's gift, so thankful this was finally happening between them.

  
Jim's body quieted at last. Blair opened his eyes and sat up, rubbing the moisture from his eyes. Jim was panting hard, eyes still closed. Blair moved up to wrap him in his arms.

  
"You were zoned on taste, I figured. I thought touch would bring you out of it. You back with me, Jim?" he asked urgently, concerned he had taken advantage of his ability to guide Jim. He hadn't meant to use him when he was vulnerable and suddenly hoped desperately Jim wasn't going to be mad at him for this. "Are you back with me?" 

  
"Y-yes," Jim gasped at last. He wrapped shaking arms around Blair, his mouth covering Blair's face with kisses. "That was amazing...I've never felt like that in my life...to come out of a zone...coming...."

  
Blair chuckled in relief. "Awesome, huh? I hoped you'd like that."

  
"I liked it," Jim stated emphatically. "I love you." Both hands swept up to gather Blair's curls, to pull his face up so Jim could see him. "I love you." He brought their lips together in a long, breath-taking kiss. "I love you, Blair."

  
Dizzied by Jim's kiss, by his reaction, Blair smiled, feeling smug and sexy. "I love you, too. So much it hurts, man." He leaned down, his forehead against Jim's.

  
Jim's fingers traced Blair's cheeks, wiping away the moisture clinging to his lashes, then combed through his curls, settling him, relaxing them both.

  
Blair realized Jim was soaked with sweat. He tugged at the sheet corner, using it to dry the dampness from Jim's chest and belly. "Are you okay, really? Does your knee feel all right?"  
Jim nodded, apparently out of words. Blair smiled, sitting up to check the bandaged knee anyway.  
"Hey, look," Blair murmured, "we're naked together."

  
Jim opened heavy-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of them. Blair felt himself the object of sentinel scrutiny. 

  
"Your body is beautiful, Chief."

  
"Oh, man, you've got the bod," Blair objected.

  
Jim shrugged diffidently. "I worked for this," he said, brushing off the compliment. "You're all natural, young and supple and so perfect. I love this," he stroked the soft hair across Blair's chest. "I could spend years just looking at you."

  
Blair fought down a blush. "You've got it, man. Long as I can spend those same years looking back at you. We've got our whole lives ahead of us."

  
Jim's eyes brimmed with emotion. Blair memorized the sight, treasuring the openness of his new lover.

  
"Kiss me," Jim whispered.

  
"Forever." Blair melted into Jim's arms, fitting his lips to Jim's with deep pleasure and love.  
  
*****  
  
The sound of pounding on the door woke them. "Blair! Jim! Are you up? Open the door!"

  
Blair lurched awake. "Oh, shit! It's my mother!"

  
Jim groaned, rubbing his face. "Go let her in."

  
"Are you crazy? We're not up. Half our clothes are on the couch or the floor down there! My bed's not been slept in!"

  
Jim rolled toward him. "Go grab our stuff, toss it in your room, grab a robe to put on and shut the door," he ordered mildly. "I'll be down in a minute."

  
"Blair! Let me in!" Naomi's shouts continued.

  
"Just a minute!" Blair yelled back. "Geez," he asked Jim in a whisper, "You think she could tell my voice was coming from up here?"

  
"Unless she's a sentinel, no," Jim chuckled, ruffling Blair's hair. "Go let your mother in the house."

  
Blair punched him in the arm and climbed out of bed. He pounded down the stairs naked, skidding to a stop by the couch where they'd started out last night, hurriedly grabbing their shirts and Jim's jeans, shoes and socks.

  
"Just a minute, mom," he called again as he sped into his room, searching wildly for his seldom-worn robe. It was hung over the back of his chair. Blair grabbed it, dropping their stuff as he slipped it on and belted it tightly. He was almost thirty years old but the idea of his mother walking in on him and a lover was still just as mortifying, maybe moreso since the lover was Jim. Broadminded as Naomi was, he didn't think he was ready just yet to share that information with her. And he was pretty sure Jim wasn't ready to.

  
He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the collar of his robe closed, not sure if Jim had nibbled on his neck enough to leave a mark last night. Finally, he grabbed a pair of sweats and pulled them on too, feeling a little more covered up. He took a deep breath and headed for the front door.

  
"Blair!" Naomi burst in, not even appearing to notice Blair wasn't dressed. "Thank goodness you let me in!"

  
"What is, Naomi?" Somewhat relieved, Blair moved to the coffee maker and started to fill the pot with water.

  
"Oh, sweetie, I... It's about Sid's murder!"

  
"Naomi?" Jim had come down, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, though he hadn't put on shoes or socks. He touched Naomi's shoulder, meeting Blair's eyes over her head, his expression loving and shocked at the same time.

  
"Mom, you really don't think I had anything to do with that, do you?" Blair asked, not hiding the exasperation in his tone. 

  
Naomi shook her head and it was only then that Blair realized how disheveled she looked. Her hair was messed up and her face was pale. Something weird was going on. "No," she stammered, "but these men -- "

  
"Thank you, Ms. Sandburg. I'll take it from here." 

  
Blair gasped as a heavily accented man dressed in an expensive suit stepped inside. He took Naomi by the arm and moved her away from her son.

  
"Who are you?" Jim demanded, stepping forward.

  
"Stay where you are." A second man, pointing a gun, invaded the loft, but Blair recognized this one.

  
"You're the guy who called me, the one who said he had problems with his senses," he blurted out, more confused by the guy's presence than by the fact that he was armed.

  
"Put the gun down," Jim commanded. He didn't have his own weapon and Blair knew the sight of his gun hanging on the hook with the strangers between him and it was frustrating to him. And his second gun, the one he usually strapped to his ankle was most likely upstairs. Jim wouldn't have thought he'd need it to let Blair's mother in.

  
The younger man stepped quickly to wrap an arm around Naomi. She let out a squeak as he leveled the gun toward Jim. "Don't get any ideas, either of you," he snapped. Blair noticed that his voice had become accented, sounding Irish. He must have disguised it when he called Blair on the phone and talked to him in the street.

  
"Take it easy," Jim advised. "We don't want any trouble here."

  
I'm sure you don't," the taller man said with a supercilious smile. He strode away from the door and, allowing the younger man to hold the gun on Jim and Blair, walked directly to the balcony doors. He opened them and in walked two more men.

  
Blair's heart sank. While it had just been the two of them, he'd held out some hope that Jim might get the drop on the guy holding the gun. Now the odds were balanced in the strangers' favor.

  
The two newcomers were both tall and powerfully built. One was about forty with blond hair, the other was perhaps only a couple of years younger with a dark razor cut. Both of them were armed.

  
Despite the odds, Jim made a move. Blair saw Jim launch himself toward the new strangers and as he did so, Blair made a grab for Jim's gun to back him up.

  
Naomi yelled and fell against him. Blair realized the man holding her had shoved her into him. He dropped Jim's holster. A shot was fired and there was a thud and a moan. Blair straightened.  
Jim was on the floor.

  
Naomi screamed and Blair made a move to go to Jim. The younger man grabbed him and shoved him against the kitchen island. Blair felt the edge of the counter bruise his side as he fell, but his eyes never left Jim.

  
After what seemed like an eternity, Jim moved. He didn't appear to be shot, Blair thought in relief. One of the men must have kicked him. Jim tried to get up and groaned, clutching at his leg. Blair could see blood on the knee of his jeans.

  
Ignoring the man looming over him with a gun, Blair scrambled to his feet. He only made it two steps when a blow struck the back of his head. He fell into blackness.  
  
*****  
  
Jim regained consciousness slowly, his eyes burning, his knee and head throbbing. After they knocked out Blair, someone had hit him too. He wasn't sure how much time had passed but it must not have been too long, the light coming from the windows still indicated it was morning.   
He tried to play possum awhile to find out their situation. He knew he was sitting in one of his kitchen chairs and that his wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with tape. Slitting his eyes open, he checked the loft. The four men were still there. The one with the European accent was seated at the foot of the table, while the others seemed to be prowling the loft. Two of them, actually. The blonde man was seated on the couch, looking relaxed. Blair was in one of the other chairs, to the side of Jim. Blair was still out, from the looks of him. Naomi was in the fourth chair, bound with tape, including a wide piece across her mouth. She was conscious and her eyes were wide and terrified. Jim was furious with himself for not paying more attention that morning. He'd let down his guard, hadn't listened to see if Naomi was alone -- not that he should have expected her to have thugs along with her, but he should never have allowed himself to drop his vigilance.

  
"Ah, I see our host is awake," said the European. He reached over and nudged Jim's shoulder. "Welcome back, Detective Ellison."

  
"You know me," Jim responded. "But I don't know you." 

  
"Oh, I seem to have neglected the social niceties," the man observed. "I am Alexander Yeager. The young man Mr. Sandburg met a few days ago is Patrick Flynn." He nodded toward the big guy walking back and forth in the middle of the living area. "That is Nick Carpelli."

  
"And I'm Sean O'Reilly," the fourth man introduced himself, climbing off the couch and joining the group at the table. "Glad to see you've awakened, Detective." His glance turned toward Blair. "Let's wake Sandburg up and get on with this," he continued, his voice turning hard.

  
The one identified as Carpelli, who had been leaning against the kitchen counter, stepped forward and cuffed Blair on the head. A muffled protest came from Naomi. Jim wrenched against the heavy tape holding him in his chair.

  
Blair groaned, his eyelids fluttering. 

  
"It's all right, Chief," Jim said softly. He kept a close watch on Blair's face, listening intently to his breathing and heartbeat.

  
Blair blinked and opened his eyes, looking around in distress. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice sounding strong.

  
"I think our uninvited guests were just about to tell us," Jim stated. 

  
Blair's gaze fell on his mother. "Are you all right?" he asked her.

  
Naomi's eyes were wide and stricken, but she nodded.

  
"Look, whoever you are, let my mother go," Blair challenged.

  
Jim admired his partner's nerve but he knew these men wouldn't respond to demands from a bound captive. For now, he knew they should do what they said, they didn't have much choice.  
"Oh, we enjoy Ms. Sandburg's presence too much to do that," Yeager said. 

  
"So fill us in," Jim said, keeping his voice under control, cordial. 

  
"We need you, Detective. And Mr. Sandburg." Yeager turned to Jim and smiled, his eyes raking the Sentinel with undisguised eagerness.

  
"You need us?" Jim scoffed. "What, do you need us for? Do you need some detective work done?"  
Yeager chuckled. "Very good. No, it's your other abilities we would like to make use of."

  
"Oh. Well, I've been out of the military for a long time now."

  
"I've heard it's like... what's the expression... riding a bicycle," Yeager purred. He glanced toward Flynn. "Go get the laptop."

  
Flynn strode towards Blair's room. Jim met his partner's eyes, trying to communicate silently. Blair looked scared now, as though their situation was beginning to sink in. 

  
Flynn returned with Blair's laptop and set it down in front of him, opening it up and switching it on.

  
"Need to check your e-mail?" Blair asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as Jim had.

  
"No, you're the writer, Mr. Sandburg, aren't you?"

  
Blair shook his head, his eyes on Jim. "I think you're mistaken."

  
"Oh that's right," Yeager said, seeming to agree. "You told the world you're a fraud and a liar. Don't worry, this particular piece of writing is something that I have no fear will be believed."  
Yeager nodded at Carpelli, who pulled out a knife. As Jim watched in concern, the man only cut the duct tape holding Blair's arms. 

  
Blair looked as though he might want to try to fight them once his hands were free, but Jim warned him not to with his eyes.

  
Blair flexed his hands, his eyes locked with Jim's. 

  
"Open your word processor," Yeager ordered. "I want you to write a letter."

  
Blair touched his keyboard with obvious reluctance. "I'm not your secretary," he muttered.

  
"Very amusing," Yeager smiled. "You do not seem to realize that we are very, very serious, Mr. Sandburg. Let me put it to you this way, if you do not comply completely with what we ask you to do, you'll see your mother perish right before your eyes."

  
Flynn walked over to Naomi and pressed the muzzle of his weapon against her head. Naomi moaned into her gag, her eyes looking like saucers.

  
"Jim... " Blair's voice wavered just slightly.

  
"Chief, we don't want to take a chance that they might be bluffing." He kept his voice calm, reasonable, though he knew things were going very badly for them and that probably they were going to get much worse before they got better.

  
Blair sighed. "What do you want me to write?" he asked grudgingly.

  
Yeager smiled. "Your suicide note."

  
"What?!" Blair looked incredulous.

  
"Are you crazy?" Jim asked, his voice low and dangerous. Maybe he should rethink his plan to cooperate. 

  
"I assure you, Detective," Yeager said, still smiling, "we are all quite sane here. And we have this planned down to the last detail. You and Mr. Sandburg are going to disappear. No one will come looking for you, however, because the rest of the world will think you are both dead."

  
"You can't make me write something like that," Blair said. "I won't do it. And nobody will believe I'm suicidal anyway."

  
"You don't think you have any reason to end your life?" Yeager asked him. "Why, with your academic career ruined, you've been so depressed. But I realize that's not quite enough. What pushed you over the edge was the death of Sid Graham."

  
"Yeah, right," Blair scoffed.

  
"You killed him." Yeager pinned him with his eyes. "And you can't live with the guilt."

  
Carpelli pointed his gun at Blair's head, his position a mirror of the way Flynn had his weapon on Naomi.

  
"Start writing," Yeager ordered, his voice turning from silk to flint.

  
Blair poised his fingers over the keys and glance up at Yeager. "I'm... ready," he said. "You going to dictate?" He still sounded sarcastic and defiant, Jim thought. God, he loved Blair. He twisted his wrists against the tape binding him, throwing his senses into trying to find a way to get free.

  
"Oh, I'd prefer if you used your own words," Yeager directed. "I wouldn't want anyone to be able to say later that it sounded as though you'd been forced to write the note." He seemed quite proud of himself for the decision. "Just say that since you killed Mr. Graham you can't live with yourself."

  
Blair finally began typing and Jim noticed a bead of sweat forming above his lip. 

  
"What about me?" Jim asked. "I'm not suicidal."

  
"Unfortunately, when Mr. Sandburg takes his life, you will also 'accidentally' die."

  
"What?" Blair croaked before Jim could say anything.

  
"Just write," ordered Carpelli, shoving his gun against Blair's temple.

  
Jim kept twisting his bonds, sure that he could tear the tape. He could hear Naomi's hard breathing; she sounded like she was about to hyperventilate.

  
"If you kill me and Blair's mother, how do you expect him to cooperate?" Jim asked.

  
"No one here is going to die," Yeager said smoothly. "At least, no one who is presently alive in this room." He turned to Jim. "As I told you earlier, we need both you and Mr. Sandburg. Ms. Sandburg is our leverage."

  
"Leverage." Jim said the word with distaste.

  
"How much do you love your mother, Mr. Sandburg?" The one named O'Reilly spoke up, his accent thick and his voice impatient. "This is taking too long," he told Yeager. "Let's get it over with. If he won't type the letter, shoot his mum and let's take them now."

  
"I have a plan, Sean," Yeager replied, unruffled by his cohort's comments. "I'm going to follow it."

  
"What will you do with Blair's mother if we cooperate?" Jim asked.

  
"She'll be let go." Yeager's response was swift.

  
"How do I know you'll do that?" Jim leveled his gaze at Yeager, putting all of his will into the look, letting the man know that if Blair's mother was harmed, he would do anything he had to.

  
"Because you want Mr. Sandburg to be all right too," Yeager answered, as though he'd been expecting the question. "So that he cooperates with us, we will leave his mother alone. So that you cooperate, we will not harm him."

  
"Aren't you worried that Ms. Sandburg will talk?" Jim asked, glancing in her direction.

  
Naomi shook her head frantically, trying to say she'd keep quiet. 

  
"That's right," Yeager nodded. "She knows that if she says anything about what's happened here today, we will kill her son."

  
"I thought you said you needed both of us," Jim pointed out.

  
"We do, but we're prepared to make the sacrifice to ensure Ms. Sandburg's cooperation."  
"Jim?" Blair's voice sounded shaky.

  
"Do what they want, Chief," Jim directed. With his eyes, he tried to tell Blair to hang on, that as soon as he got a chance, he'd try something.

  
Blair started typing.

  
A few moments later, Yeager read over his shoulder.  


> **"To everyone,  
>  I'm sorry about what happened. I'm a fraud and a liar. I did go to New York to kill Sid Graham, because he ruined my life. Now I can't live with the guilt. And I wouldn't have made a good cop because of it. Thanks for everything, especially to Darryl.  
> Blair Sandburg"**

  
"Very nice. You do have a talent for fiction, Mr. Sandburg," Yeager observed. Send the e-mail -- to your mother's address and to your friends at the Cascade P.A." Blair typed the addresses, then hesitated.

  
Carpelli grabbed his neck and ground his gun against Blair's head. 

  
"Shoot him and you're all dead," Jim yelled. He threw himself forward, toward Yeager, his arms free at last. Hampered by the chair still taped to his legs, he fell short, but he grabbed for Yeager's ankles and with all his strength, pulled the man to the floor with him. 

  
He heard a gun shot and glanced up, aware that Blair had grabbed the gun away from Carpelli.

Naomi's muffled scream made him look in her direction and Jim saw that she had thrown her chair backward, toppling Flynn.

  
_Good old Naomi_ , Jim thought. She was a mess sometimes, but you could count on her in the crunch. 

  
"Put the guns down now!" Blair yelled. 

  
Jim reared back his fist and slugged Yeager in the jaw. He felt satisfied as blood flew and the man sagged into unconsciousness.

  
The blinding sound of another weapon obliterated all other noise. Jim glanced up to see O'Reilly standing over him, a big automatic in his hands.

  
Bending over him, blond hair hanging in his eyes, O'Reilly smiled. "Now unless you want a bullet this big in your friend's brain, I suggest you let us do what we came here to do, Mr. _Sentinel_." He raised the weapon and slammed it into Jim's jaw.

  
Jim recoiled, bringing up his hands to protect himself, but O'Reilly went wild, beating him mercilessly, using the gun to pound him into deep unconsciousness.  
  
*****  
  
Blair watched in terror as the man kept hitting Jim, but he couldn't do anything to stop him. The guy named Carpelli had grabbed his gun back and while he held it on him, Flynn re-taped his wrists.

  
Naomi was crying behind her gag, still taped to the chair lying sideways on the floor. 

  
When the blond guy was finished beating Jim, he stepped over Yeager's limp form and hit the send button on Blair's computer. Blair shuddered at the thought that his suicide message was going out over the internet. He hoped that using Darryl's name in it would alert Simon to the fact that the note wasn't what Blair would have written himself if he were really suicidal. 

  
"See if you can get Yeager to wake up," O'Reilly ordered, glancing at Carpelli. "Patrick, go get the stuff we need."

  
He went to the silverware drawer and pulled it open, finding a knife. He moved over to Blair and cut him free. "I doubt you want to go on our expedition wearing just your sweatpants and robe, do you?" he asked. "Go get dressed."

  
Shaking, Blair complied. He kept his eyes on Jim as long as he could, though he knew they wouldn't let him go to him.

  
Carpelli followed him to his room and watched as he dressed. Blair quickly pulled on jeans and his heavy hiking boots, followed by a couple of shirts. "I need to use the bathroom," he said softly, embarrassed.

  
Carpelli nodded, following him down the hall. "Hope you don't mind going with the door open."

  
"No problem." Blair relieved himself, then washed his hands at the sink, leaning over to quickly wash his face too. He reached for his comb.

  
"Never mind that. You're gorgeous without it," Carpelli smiled, his lip curling in a fake lisp. Blair just glared at him.

  
When he came out, he was shocked to see that two large cases had been carried into the loft. Flynn was opening them as Yeager rubbed his jaw. The man stood up then, straightening his costly suit and nodded as he noticed Blair was dressed.

  
Flynn lugged something out of the first case. Blair was shocked to see a dead body. It was a nude man, appearing to be close to himself in size. Flynn manhandled a second body out of the other case, this one as tall as Jim.

  
Blair felt sick. What were these guys doing? Had they killed these men who could fit his and Jim's physical descriptions? What were they planning, that they'd leave them there to be taken for their bodies? Forensics would easily be able to tell that they weren't actually Jim and Blair.

 

Flynn went up to the loft and came back carrying some of Jim's clothes. Carpelli produced someof Blair's clothes from his room. The dressed the dead bodies as though they handled corpses every day. The whole thing turned Blair's stomach. 

  
Flynn then went over to the stove and opened the oven door. He turned on the gas and then carried the smaller body over to the oven, draping it so that its head was resting on the open oven door, as though the person had put his head in the oven to kill himself with the gas.

  
"Give me a hand, Nick," Flynn said roughly. Together, he and Carpelli picked up the taller body and carried it up to Jim's bedroom.

  
"You're crazy.... " Blair muttered, their plan becoming obvious. They were going to let the gas build up, he realized. They were going to burn down the loft.... "Please, just take us. You don't have to do it this way," he said, looking at Yeager.

  
"I'm afraid our plan must go forward," was all Yeager said. 

  
Blair went over to the sink and wet a couple of paper towels, then headed toward Jim. He bent down and wiped at the blood on Jim's head with them, feeling his partner stir at the touch. 

  
"Help my mother," he asked Yeager keeping his voice level, neither begging nor demanding.

  
Jim was awake, but Blair whispered to him. "Stay down. It's no use. I don't want anyone else hurt." He was confident that only Jim had heard him. Jim's body relaxed and he didn't open his eyes.  
  
*****  
  
Ten minutes later, they were in the back of a black van, hurtling through the streets of Cascade. Blair's hands were taped again, in front of him. Jim was on his side on the floor of the van, his hands and ankles both taped up. They'd left his hands in front of him but had wrapped the tape around his waist, too, making sure he couldn't reach forward. 

  
The dead bodies had been left in position. The gunmen had taken care to find the bullets that had been fired in the loft and remove both them and their shell casings. They'd appeared frustrated when they couldn't locate any of Blair's research notes. Blair didn't comment, keeping his relief that he'd burned his material on Jim to himself.

  
Flynn was driving the van and Yeager was with him. Back at the loft, O'Reilly and Carpelli still had Naomi. They'd untied her from the chair as Blair and Jim were taken out.

  
"Sweetie, I'm sorry," Naomi had sobbed as her son was pulled out of her sight.

  
"It's okay, Mom." Reaching for her, but prevented by the gunmen, Blair had choked back tears himself. He didn't know for sure if he'd ever see his mother again.

  
"Jim," he said now, hoping he hadn't passed out again. O'Reilly had hit him really hard with that gun of his.  
  
*****   
  
Jim shifted position slowly, awkward with his hands and feet bound, but eventually slid over to where Blair sat against the passenger side of the van. It was dark in the interior, but he could make out what he needed to see.

  
Blair's eyes were wild, fear and concern showing in them, desperation and remorse. He tried to help Jim get into a sitting position. Exhausted from the effort, his head pounding so badly he could hardly focus his senses, Jim leaned against Blair's side.

  
"Are you okay?" Blair whispered, obviously afraid their captors could hear them.

  
"I'll make it," Jim told him. He sighed, drawing on reserves of strength to dial down the pain. He needed to be alert and ready in case any opportunity to escape presented itself. The trouble was, he doubted these men would be careless again.

  
"Where can they be taking us?" Blair breathed. "It's because.... "

  
"They're wrong, remember?" Jim told him in a hushed voice. "That's how we've got to play it."

  
"They're the ones who placed the bug, aren't they?" was Blair's next question.

  
"I'd say so," Jim agreed. He clenched his fists, so angry with himself he could kill. How could he have been so stupid? He'd let down his guard last night, his love and passion making him reckless. Now, instead of being able to spend the morning enjoying the afterglow of last night's loving, their lives were in danger. He hadn't even thought to extend his senses when Naomi had knocked at the door.... His whole body was shaking with fury and remorse. 

Blair lifted his own bound hands and covered Jim's, squeezing in reassurance. "Don't do that to yourself, Jim. We've had a lot on our minds."

  
Jim didn't answer. Anything he said would have been a curse and he didn't want to upset Blair any more than he already was. He just clenched his jaw in frustration, feeling like a failure. He couldn't meet Blair's eyes. 

  
Blair released his hands and Jim felt him move slightly away.

  
"No," Jim hissed. He grasped Blair's hands, pulling him closer as best he could. "Not that." He leaned forward, hoping Blair could see him in the dim van interior. "Look at me, Blair. I'm not talking about last night. I don't regret that, not for a second. I just... I should have figured this out, I should have alerted Simon or... or someone.... "

  
Blair hung his head. Jim brushed his shoulder with his own. "Listen to me, Blair," he insisted, still keeping his voice low, "no matter what, even if they kill us, I'll be glad for last night. If I hadn't finally told you, if we'd never had the chance...."

  
"We might never have the chance again!" Blair moaned. "God, Jim, I.... "

  
"I know. Don't say it here. I don't want them to hear us."

  
Blair nodded, looking miserable. "I understand. They can't have that either. They can't have anything that's real, Jim. I'll protect you with everything I am."

  
"I'll protect you," Jim assured him. "I won't let them hurt you."

  
Blair leaned against him and Jim could feel the dampness of his body, sweat from stress and fear. Jim moved as close as he could to him, using his shoulder to caress the man when he couldn't use his hands to do so.

  
"They'll let my mom go, won't they?" Blair asked a final question.

  
Jim let his hearing range out, backward, toward 852 Prospect. He could hear them back there, but he didn't say so to Blair. He was too worried.

  
He heard Naomi's voice. "I promise you, I won't say anything. I'll leave the country. I was going to Tibet again anyway." She sounded somewhat frantic.

  
"I don't know about that, my dear," responded the voice that belonged to Sean O'Reilly. "You seem to give out information that you shouldn't without intending to."

  
"But this is different," Naomi said, "this is my son's life. Please don't hurt him. I'll be quiet. I promise you."

  
"Do it," the Irish voice ordered. Jim heard the man's footsteps as he turned away, then he heard the click of a gun being cocked.

  
"Bye-bye, mama," said Nick Carpelli in a gloating voice.

  
"No, please!"

  
The sound of a shot cut off Naomi's voice.

  
Jim couldn't help flinching at the sound, seemingly so loud it was right in the van with them. Blair looked at him, his eyes worried.

  
"What's wrong?"

  
Jim shrugged, hoping he could fool his guide. "Just my head. It's really pounding." He didn't want to tell Blair his mother was dead. What would that accomplish besides demoralizing his friend even more than he already was? If Blair knew they'd killed Naomi, he'd try to fight them. He wouldn't cooperate. And that was almost certain to get Blair killed. Jim stayed silent, damning himself for what was happened, feeling responsible for Naomi's death as much as if he'd been the one to pull the trigger.

  
They were getting farther out of town. From the feel of the road, they were on a highway, probably headed North if he could guess from the angle of the light seeping in. Toward Canada, he supposed. Maybe he could try something when they stopped at the border.

  
He had to try. It would be their only chance. Jim didn't want to think what awaited them at the end of the ride.  
  
*****  
  
  



End file.
